November, 16th, 2023
Love is all that's left when anger is out of range,
One loves because he fears that things get out of hand.
Once there's no love, there's no protection against the world,
You're left with a sick feeling that something bad is going to unfold.
The hostility towards the other turns quickly against yourself,
Your young and reckless rejection of love has left you on the shelf.
No matter how strong you are, little child, it's too heavy a burden to bear,
No control over your body, mind and relations forces you to scream and swear:
To hell with it!
I'm afraid I lose everything for I've been selfish all my life!
Now I despair and tremble as I curse the world and whine!
To hell with this, to hell with that, just kill me with a knife!
There's nothing left for me here but...
I bet you're sick and tired of this final repetition
I promise it's the last time I write this composition
The death of a tradition — for my reader's love! —
Goodbye.
No time for it to wither, let it flourish till it dies.
