Ciclos

 Cycles 

    Where do insecurities come from if not from the same places I feel like I'm being watched, friendly looks cause doubts. Beauty is in the eyes I admire, never in mine, these I keep to look with fine spite at my image on the dark screens. Insecurity hides in the morning, when I'm with someone, but at night it tries to steal my rest, seeing itself in me. Of course I don't love him anymore, his eyes crosses mine in countable days and hours, while countless thoughts and judgments keep me in this cycle of internal wear.