The Split

A short visit to this city has torn me again, leaving even clearer mark to differentiate the two.

I am the prisoner by the day, the dreamer by the night!

As the bell ring, we all gather heading the same direction, with the footsteps rhyming the sound of surrender, in the spirit for achieving conformity.

As the second bell ring, we all gather again, then spread like the air filling the space, to every corner where each belongs.

From that corner, I take off all my clothes, put off the mask, naked in front of the mirror which reflecting the truth, I collect again the identity.

This is the game I am in. And as on every game, each day brings a new level. The clothes are getting tight it is harder to take off. The mask and the face are getting similar I barely could differ.

Am I going to be forever having two faces? Or better to let them blend?

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