The Chant of the Wolves

Looking through the mirror
watching the ordinary,
seeking and hiding:
Anger.
The sacred silence
feeds the ghosts,
the unwanted standards
unusually sung.
I hear the piano
and its saddest tones,
I see it all through this glasses
yawning until dawn.
I search for the answers
within my nightmares,
I conquer all my insanity
living two lives
the pity granted,
I reunited with the wolves.

Imagen Sin Título, Autor Desconocido.