(2) Don Quixote's Mask
Am I involuntarily attracted to those moments
of wearing Don Quixote's Mask.
Hesitatingly, I reject them ,
as they patently will not vanish with lust.
Moments that are in their attempts drive a mast,
but they are stronger than gust.
Moments that impose themselves,
as they harmonize themselves with a must.
Moments that collide the impediments
while dreams incite life to gnaw a crust.
I'll struggle with my face to discard the Mask ,
as my face will be a frust.
I am craving for a fence
to defend what or who I trust.
