The Dark Poem by Trong Phan

I don't remember when our stories are started behind the mirro
On two chairs next to the table without things-easy-break
You enter, lock the door, sit and speak
And i, i sit and hear.

Stories always start by your questions that i never think about
I don't understand about what you speak
I don't know what is my mistakes
I try explain, but you try speak
At last i not like a man, but like a child - he lies.

For a long time stories don't end by your tears
But by sighs of a man whose must hear what you speak
You out the room, quicky close the door
But in the room your sounds are reflected thousands of times
Before they are absorbsed by walls.

What will stories tomorrow arrive?
I don't know. Nothing in my mind.