Yet again, I stood at the sight of the mirror
With it eyes imitate; printing my image for i to see
Speak into my hearing, “Am falling to the dust”
And I gaze at the three hands of time
As it walks in a circle, like being lost in a desert
Then I knew, every since I emerge from her world
I have been cast from the cloud a rain
Falling, till i touch the dust and be swallowed
And sadness invaded my face
Wondering, why must we fall to the dust?
Then i climb up the hills to seek our inventor
And demanded for I not to be tasted by the dust;
Yes, for they say ” What goes up comes down”
But I hope hands of gravity seize to pull me down
The words uttered from the mirror pierce me
Despite we knock on it head, it still comes for us
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