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A Voice In the Wildness

I hate and I love. How much I hunger For the days when I was younger, for the days when I was really free, for the days when I was a real me. And what is happening now? Has the world turned upside down? I do not say any more “Wow!” Nothing surprises me. I can only realize this horrible situation with discomfort and even frustration. Am I on another stage? Is it connected with my age? I don’t think so. I can see today the youth who can’t find the truth. Isn’t it strange that having two higher educations I am on the edge of starvation? Isn’t it strange that having worked all my life I have to think how to survive? No one cares about my life, no one worries if I should live or die. I hate those unfair rules which were proclaimed for the fools. I love my motherland, but the life here I can’t withstand. I forgot the word “hurray”. That was another day. My future is unpredictable as weather. I am like a feather don’t know where to fly. It seems all is a lie. I don’t know where this time the wind will blow. Where is my spirits flow? I don’t know how to live, I don’t know whom to believe. The world has greatly changed. For someone it’s not strange. It’s only strange that I am still alive but have to think how to survive. Who will tell me what to do? Should I be true with those who cheat, with those who treat me and others as a toy? They are very much annoyed to listen to the truth, but they are not confused to rob, to demand, to occupy my motherland. They even use God’s name as a cover for their crimes. They do not hear the church bells chimes, they only hear their own voice, leaving the majority with no choice. My voice is crying in the wildness. Forgetting about gladness I have to know sadness, to learn the rules of a new ***** game. Isn’t it the biggest shame? I have no more strength to fight but only to wait for the light at the end of that tunnel, in other words: for my funeral. Where is the way out? I have no strength to shout. It looks as there is only one: to pray, to calm my soul for another stay. ©Larisa Rzhepishevska December 2nd,2010
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Written by
larisa-rzhepishevska
Russian
Published
Jan 1, 2011
Lines·Words
73·408
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