She sings songs of a glamorous spirit that drive crazy the audience...
But behind this posture is a bottomless solitary...
Many, as her, bare their outside extremely
To hide the loneliness of the unsatisfied dream...
As so many, she creates stories and multiplies paths,
Existing through quantity, instead of perfection.
She tells the fantasy of what she can't create
And the other side of the mirror sometimes
Jumps in the reality.
She sings the song of her failure,
Splintered by the blade reflecting
In the eyes of whom she attracts.
She sings the song of her hope,
Thinking songs never come true.
Nobody told her, that instead of a crowd of vultures,
She better sings to the universe her song of perfection.
Here is the mirror that will reflect her real dimension:
And then, all the dummies will sing their own song.