My soul is dancing on a pole,
Shameless you are! -
from near and far
Spirits whisper.

My cry is a single tear,
scrolling down
on my cheek,
My nervous tics,
As time ticks,
Disclose the fact
That I still care,
But I forgot what for.

My days are factored
by gloom and rain.
I still remain
Just breathing.

All of my wishes
Became surreal,
What should I go for
is a metaphor
for a fool I am.

Did I suffer and die
without knowing,
Thus, am I touring
through Hell?

Should I exhale
Pains I hold
and seek salvation?
Can a creation
Find catharsis
While its soul dances
On the pole,
and I no longer exists?

Dance, you beloved baby-doll
of my angels and beasts!
Dance, you shameless...