Today I met my shadow and we talked,
We talked and talked for hours in clock,
My shadow doesn’t sugar coat the things I did,
And I never accepted the situation as it is.

My shadow, bathed in dark with no face,
Was questioning my morals like a sage,
I, as a human, was astounded by the act,
Is my shadow planning something behind my back?

It was as humble as a child could be,
It only questioned the existence of my dignity,
It was I who was hiding in the dark while the shadow was burning,
It was I who failed to grasp the motion of wheel’s turning.

I was advocated and cross-examined by the dark saint,
It questioned my integrity and was never plain,
It denied me the explanation of the interrogation,
It made me rebuke in my defenseless constellation.

My shadow, my dark, my vicious deeds,
They all had eyes, waiting to bleed,
Bleed myself in the form of harmony,
Bleed my heart in the reckless debauchery.

My shadow was not humble as my friends were,
It was abundant that my skin was a fabric sheer,
My skin was hardly containing my fears beneath,
The more the shadow questioned the shallow I breathe.

My shadow that left me in the ally of dark,
My shadow that shivered when the world barked,
It was questioning me one question in layers of facade,
“Which one of us chose the darker path?”


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