Uncertainties arise every look:
of doubt, of despise, of madness...
... of fury, of aggression and of extermination.

Offenses are spat out
by similares mouths
to those of whom the words
strike so cruelly.

Too pure for me;
this reality is too terrible.
It makes me die blind of facts
– acts on behalf of peace:
false, inconvenient... and ordinary peace!

Men **** each other every day,
but they never did it so ruthlessly
as they do currently. And all is so insensitive.
I doubt a lot of our hearts.

Reflections are what I have left,
because I'm too fragile to change.
And I don't wanna lose myself in this world
neither I wish to write about its reality.

Too crazy for us;
this thought is too inhuman.
It makes me cry because of acts
– facts told by a bloke:
irreal, stale... and poetic bloke!