Alas my dear
I am still the Ozymandias...

From the bottles of the forworn memories
that on the counter I amass...

Only kids feel the suffocation,
adult are already suffocated...

If you can not love anymore
if your ark of feeling have sank in the mud...

The abyss of shapes
drop to drop...

Beauty shines
in the crystals of your eyes...

Snow man, melting frost
time is the perfection lost...

O my beautiful butterfly
you are not so beautiful after all...

Nothing makes me happier than when I see
good in people eyes...

When we are unequal we lose one another,
we lose our butterfly...

We lost our genders to love.
We lost our voices to love...

I wish I were the pivotal point
at the centre of gravity...