The match is struck,
incense burning,
curse the luck
that has you yearning;
hoping,
dreaming,
coping,
scheming;
with your heart that won’t stop beating,
whose history are you repeating?

Say my name,
my mirror image,
of boundless fame,
from start to finish;
if not yet,
you’ll know in time,
of what you get
evoking mine.

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