If you would seek the moon, it is her face.
If you seek musk, her hair is hiding place.
She is a paradise, arrayed in splendour,
Glorius, graceful, elegantly slender.

I call her the shadow dancer,
punished with hope..
She twirls with reflections,
and shadows on her broken feet..
She struggles to remain beautiful,
to perpetuate the stereotype..
She leaps, weightless into the heavy air,
pointed broken feet, hiding the pain..
Odessa, the swan in her lake,
flying, oblivious....

Year by year is passing by,
We learn, we love, we get hurt,
We learn that love is pain,
That humans are not worth of trust.

We feel alienated among a humankind,
Lost all trust and hope of thinking otherwise.
Diving inside ourselves, shutting all doors out,
Cause there, we know, there is peace,
There is no love, there is no pain.

After a while, we feel it is time,
To come out to look around,
To witness changes out there,
To try to trust, to try to love...

What a stupid idea
To hope that something changed.
It is all the same in new design...

I wish good luck to Musk,
With all the air and space research,
I'll take a queue to fly to Mars,
Cause nothing here is holding me.