Fresh Paint On Your Mirror Poem by Lekë Loshi

You love the smell of fresh paint on your mirror
To release you from this hell
The line is the white saint that makes life clearer


All these walls you want to climb
The taste of salt and lime entwined
Enthrals you, it makes you fly
Yet all you do inside is cry
For more adventure, another show
More numbness, some of that snow


Conquer the world with a grip
Yet, you realize
Your arms are tied and your feet shackled
You keep on reaching for its grasp
Everything will be solved
One line at a time
You’re a million bucks worth
But everyone else is a dime
Confined since birth to fatigue
You explode in mirth, suffer intrigue
Oh my boy, that line did you fine!
We’re going to conquer this world
One line at a time