There are no eyes, no lips and no flowers in the fake land. I mean there are no real souls, no real lips and no real flowers in the fake land. Everything is fake in the fake land even me; the fake tale from the fake land. This poem; these words; these letters are fake because they are the shadows of a fake man from the fake land. No poetry in the fake land because the thief had stolen it in a sunny day. Oh, sorry, I forget, no thief here in the fake land, no sun and no days. Nothing here in the fake land just fake images; I mean very fake images. Yes, it is me; the son of the fake land; our dresses are fake, our faces are fake, our love is fake and our souls are fake. Everything is fake here; in the fake land.
