So you wear these thorns with pride
So you wear these thorns with pride, accepting the hand that invites you to dance,
and you spin alongside your reflection, to the music of voids that sing to your tears.
Because you know, this pain looks better on no one else but you,
you know you have always been the perfect mannequin to display it to the world.
In the mirror of your soul, a ballet of shadows and lights is reflected,
where every step is an untold story, a silence that bears your name,
and in this dance, pain becomes a silk dress, a crown of thorns,
which you wear with grace, for only you know how to dress suffering with elegance.
The whistle of time sings a refrain of loss and rediscovery,
and you, wrapped in melancholy, embrace your imperfections as rare artifacts,
because you have learned that beyond the pain lies an inexplicable beauty,
a story written in shades of sadness and light, understood only by you.
Thus you dance with your thorns and tears, blending reality with illusion,
a perfect mannequin transforming suffering into art, into a spectacle of life,
because in every wound and every tear hides a part of you,
a truth you wear with pride, an eternal dance in the mirror of destiny.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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