Think its you that lives,
It’s the poor reflection of you.
Only one justice who’s moral enough to awake you.
You aren’t shaped to see yourself,
Shaped to live in strange,
Calling it life.
The justice who awakes you is the last ally,
You must not regret; it’s the creation.
Some reality you’ll suffer are the dreams,
Many did suffer; supposed to be dreams.
Awakenness isn’t the ally.
Acception became life.
Sleeping you’ll live;
Minding you don’t.