Tranquil wind

Harmless and weightles like the wind

Are my motions.

I am deprived not by the dreadful outcomes

This life has bestowed upon me

Nor am I disheartened by it.

As if in awe, more dillemas are customed for me.

But being weary is something not familiar to me

'Stead, it is something foreign, entitled only to the locals'

Says my sturdy_ like designed brain

Trying to pursuade my tender heart,

That was enclosed with a partly broken mirror.

The heart that reflects your desires

But never it's fragmented side.

It forces a portion of its red, soft skin out

But backs away bleeding

After being poked by the mirror

For its own safety.

Ran