A chick hangs from a branch,
No one to free it from entrapment,
No one sympathizes, all blind,
And in the depth of their hearts,
they sneer loudly – horned goat,
it is not his predicament…
You must know, bastards of Satan,
I have spat it out – already digested,
you sneer not at me, but at yourselves,
I am equally in hell as I am in heaven,
Neither death nor agony are terrible to me;
There is torment within me to be found,
I’m not returning from where you’re heading,
I have always been on that treadmill!
Today my suffering thickens,
When emptiness, absorbing creation,
Burns out all the colours of the world,
only grey caging remains…
I will rise again, newly born,
Although pale and barren,
Only one from an entire mass
To step out of line and shout,
To finally start healing
Achilles’ heel!!! Thank you, Calliope…