It’s not me who started this,
The inscrutable has played its role upon my sense.
I can’t avoid it nor face it, in a matter of costumary.
I kept walking on a shade, thinking what to do next on a coming full moon.
My endeavor is just cloaking myself in another vague of demeanor.
It’s between a clear desire and hesitation.
My wish is to reach your acceptance of my existence by any chance or by any mean,
Believe me, it’s not a self compulsion it’s an expectation of departing to utopía .
