Mirror

If one of us was sentimental,
The other one - less secure,
Would ever it be more mental,
Could ever it be more pure?

And now I"m a fading flower,
If ever I had my colour
The slower the withering grew,
The more ecstasized it you.

I see in you all that I hate in myself,
My agony"s just your infraction,
But which among us was a misery"s pelf?
I"m dying, but under protection.

Why killing for fun
Can"t make a long run?
But nothing replied
From under inside.