The uncertain.

 Don't tell anyone or everyone

invade the tones of silence,

this irony of desperate foam,

That dense that stops the sky.

I'm between a looking glass and a hard place.

Knowing that we must begin,

miss the familiar song, the eyes,

fame filled with childhood,

The blasphemous taste of dreams.

I'm between a looking glass and a hard place

And I don't know how to invent cherries.