I shut myself inside an empty, silent sphere
Where there is no air, not even light gets in.
Outside, millions of forces strain against each other,
A crowd of hungry mouths jabbering — chewing, nothing more.
I live on the memories of “there is not” and “maybe”.
When I can breathe, I draw deep, heavy sighs,
Like someone for whom choking is normal,
Not a problem caused by a single wrong swallow.
We are choking, blinking, afraid of one another,
Of that foul-tasting, greedy world
Kept alive by the interests of those
For whom money and power are everything.
For the rest, there are only lies and fear.
I am terrified in the loneliness of my sphere.
I’m afraid even this is not bad enough,
That we will be forced to endure it
When they start pounding on its walls,
When greedy stupidity ruins everything,
When the wolf pack goes hunting for new scapegoats.
Madness and greed have no heart,
No limits, no conscience — they sell it all.
They force their propaganda into millions of mouths;
Instead of food, freedom, or joy,
They leave the taste of hatred, war, and blood.
Being trapped inside this sphere may one day feel
Like burning alive in a lightbulb, terrified.
I won’t act; there will be no escape.
I would give you joy in sorrowful days,
I would give you hope — light, beauty
The intoxicating smell of books, soft grass,
The seasons — or whatever you desire.
But I would have to lie if I said
These things await you and your poor descendants.
And why lie at all? It’s not my style.
I sit alone inside my sphere,
Watching February’s browns through the window.
Sunday is quieter than usual.
I am afraid of you.
I am terrified of the world.
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