poetry

Mirror Eyes

I plucked my eyes out,
one by one
and replaced ’em
with mirrors.
So what you see,
when you look into my eyes,
and read my words, is not me,
but yourself.
What you judge
          is not me, but yourself.
What you hate is not me,
              but yourself,
                                 and your mistakes.
As I declared a long time ago;
my howlings, 
                  I keep to myself and the moon.

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