I’m submissive, but not a victim.
You are dominant, but still not a master.
Sometimes, the joy of my heart turns me into a dominant monster.
Other times, the sorrow of my unstable existence diminish the mirror.
The reflection I have with other souls, other ideas.
That means that I’m weak and like a sponge to despair.
But when I’m with you, all that schlock disappears.
I dedicate my thoughts to you when I need to be strong.
When my heart stops because the murky day is eating me, I think of you.
After that thought, I realize that I am a victim, but just your victim.
You are my master.
The dominant monster.
You are my sorrow.
My broken mirror.
My murky schlock.
The fragile reflection of a beautiful being that I’ve never met.
Or have I?
