Backspell of Your,
Words,
Things,
That I Schould To Do,
You Say,
But I Won't.
I Put You Myself,
Into This Tale,
Pushed Down,
Without Textline,
To Pull Back.
Created A Story,
Made You,
The Source.
And Now You Crushed,
On The Paper and The Ink,
Unspoken ...
Between Pushing Back,
And Spoking.
As Usual, Coming,
Back,
Still.
You Need to See,
The Final Chapter,
By The Time,
When I Write You,
To My Mirror. 
You Thirst For The Cover,
Of This,
Craving The Book,
Closed.
...
But,
I Haven't Finished,
Yet,
Although I Should.