The Shackles

How to heal from heavenly silence

when your life dies,

broken in two?

How can you get rid of wrinkles

on the soul when the body is so naive?

I cannot find the source

of this hatred, I do not know how

to free myself from the shackles

that nobody's truth

has woven for me.

I wade through the burning cities,

choking on the smoke of burning hopes,

a crowd of my brothers and sisters

kneeling at my feet.

I was born into this wonderful lie

by mistake.

Please do not take my burnt blood

from me.

Do not deprive me of the empty heart

that is the last memento 

of the last apocalypse.