Though a mirror, a furtive hand creeps,
Fell the need to be free in other ways
Without really caring about how tomorrow will be,
It ended up getting lost in junk detours.
Good for bad, an arm's lengh emerges as an extension,
From a desire to get out of a lure that is not a life,
A thirst for reality that wants no respite
Until obtaining the ultimate reward, eminently.
A shoulder has achieved the feat, as much as a chin,
To see the light of day, to take in the reflections of the sun,
This special moment will never be the same
Like an oversight repaired, free of charge.
Head to tail, a calm face appears smiling devilishly,
Hair floats, absolutly needs help,
The other arm points to a near firmament
Which is drawn on a fold-out map.
The chest is struggling, the glass cracks
And will be crumble again when the basin vill pass,
Full hips stretched up on cushions
Ready to welcome soon, perhaps a whole squadron.
The rest of the body is freed from its shackles,
Lightweight legs and feet playing on velvet,
the magic operates, leaving in turn
The wounds of the mirror closed for a while.