Through anger and fury
his metal heart
sustains itself.
His misery maintains his glory.
No achievements, no sorrows
and most important: no rules.
Only dark times
Dark horses riding through black fields.
Piles and piles of corpses. Old souls.
Nothing to pray for,
nor even to fear.
Lifeless existence has its rules,
its maintenance.
He tells no stories. He eats them.
Keeps feasting himself in human dreams.
The few men who have tried to find him have all
perished in very obscure situations.
He lives in an endless maze, hiding among us.
There is no escape. There is no redemption.
There is no future. Nothing!
Obscene oblivion. Our very last breath
sustains an ancient whisper,
which says:
“There
are no monsters.
There
is only yourself.”
Caio Bio Mello
13/09/2014
Nenhum comentário:
Postar um comentário