The perfect copycat


"The deepest love is the one you feel for yourself…"


The perfect copycat

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You never let yourself be saved! There have been so many times that I have tried and your mouth, accompanied by mine, drowns on your own lips. Tired of repeating the same thing, that nauseating thought that leads nowhere, although there are so many obstacles where you have gotten into that you always know how to get where words cannot. Enough of rolling in circles! It is a vice to continue there, take my hand and put aside the naivety that is still so full of emptiness, capable of committing any crazy idea.

Although your eyes say otherwise, that look that gives you away, so perfect that no one could tear it from your face. Eyes that tell the truth do not reveal their intentions until it is too late. Life is wise! it counts day after day and always gives you a new opportunity.

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"They say that there is heaven and hell, but you continue to be glued to the ground, which is where you belong, although you stole those black angel wings and your childish gaze kills me not to let me speak..."

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We are two in pantomime crossing cliffs that nobody wants to cross, I am here to save you, although at this point I do not know who can save you. For just a promise, we are two emissaries without faith, agents of destiny who let themselves be carried away by the river and its turbulence.

You cannot live without a goal, it is to ascend in ideas, which brings us closer to divinity. Who will take the first step, you or me? Who will break the barrier of breath that stands between our faces. You never let yourself be saved! If I extend my hand, it is not so you can imitate the action but so that you can take it. Beware of yourself! When you want to be my image and likeness, those wings grow only once and the longer you only think of cutting them.

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In a few more years, there will be nothing left of you. My extended hand will continue and when you need it most you will turn your back on me again. Your mute and gestural silhouette, that tear as a concealed caress, when you look at me without looking I know that you have run out of soul. But I tremble with fear to see you, because you are the perfect imitator and I know your concept of love...

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Being so close I can guess what is the plan of a soul that is no longer as white as the last time I tried to save it. It was out of love that I started to write your saga, there is no deeper love than that which is born from your own failures, nobody wants to cross so many cliffs to get nowhere. But you must get to paradise! and cross the door of this threshold that separates us. Although that look that gives you away remains framed, every time I turn my back and see you die. Because you know that it is just another promise, just like love, the perfect imitator of what I keep in my soul...


END

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