Here I am
With my pathetic attempts of poetry,
Begging for your attention -
Please,
Stop squealing.

In this pigsty, of a world
An excuse for lifetime -
Of silence.
Living off leftovers
To believe,
In nothing but those who feed.

Look,
Around you there are tears.
To drown in sorrow
What is the worth?
The pain - the horror.
Would you stop,
In order to be saved?
Look, in those eyes -
Those who cry the rivers
Softly touching dark parts
Of the heart.

Infants scream,
While you and I -
Deny -
Our childish behavior.
Both of us - stuck
As piglets in a pen.
Weeping into the silence
Of a pitch black night,
Longing with agony
For a secret wish - to fulfill
Our desires.

The butcher's knife gleams,
With a hard and cold light.
Panicking souls, scampering.
Last attempt
To escape,
While horrified glances
Are exchanged between those -
Who were struck down,
As if by lightning -
Not the hands of man.

Please,
I beg you - listen to me once.
Cease the madness that sinks you deep inside,
Reach out your arm - and I,
Shall grab it firm,
Kiss me goodnight, or kneel on one knee
Light the way up ahead -

Free.

And outside the gate.