I create illusions reflected on your mirror
but it’s only me the one to see the light
in between the cracks, what if I don’t fight
and allow this place to reflect my fears?
Only one direction where the river flows
and can either swim or just let it take me-
If the truth sometimes translate in years
should I give up now that I’m slightly ahead?
Maybe life is life and nothing more to be
than another man living on the edge
of a life illusion, while already dead.
“One sometimes weeps over one’s illusions with as much bitterness as over a death.” ― Guy de Maupassant