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Stained

You feed me with stained and broken mirrors—
What should I do today?
I always worry
When you are not around
I belong to the sky,
In a metaphysical room
You become ecstatic, you read your books
And I follow, you encircle me
Bring me close to myself, like last night
When I trembled before something hollow
Stirred your vision, you,
Immobile, immortal immigrant
Turned upside down
In my lap.