I tried a lot to keep my ego
not to destroy,
But I couldn't restrict it that it did not grow...
Because I feel everything ten times deeper,
ten times harder always, as you know...
You wanted my heart as a colorful and light toy
that greatly pleased and illuminated you
You could play with it as much as you wanted,
however, as you carelessly juggled and stirred,
Sometimes it crashed to the floor,
shattered into pieces
and cut your soft hands,
it made me hurt
and yet I am confused:
what a thing you really were
that happened to me!
You wanted to see me while I was rising,
Because you maybe wanted to feel only proud
You wanted to be loved by a genius,
whereas, yet I am myself - a regretful nihilist,
tired of purposes, targets and all...
And for me, it is much harder
to completely break up,
as I do not fool myself that you were ideal
and you were very gentle with my love which was too excessive.
I understood that you were not a durable state,
You know, I am like at home when the aura is depressive
and I have to accept this ******* hard reality
that I will always be alone
at my gloomy 'home'
without you...
It has no door,
It has no windows,
No place to sit,
Neither soft chairs,
Nor soft pillows...
And master says that;
when a suffering friend wants a place
to lean back in comfort,
Direct him to that, but
show a maximum effort
to be sure if the 'bed' is tough enough!
I came back my 'home' and came back to my place,
My 'bed' is ready
for the next phase of a craze.
Tough it is! Tough enough!
Too tough even for friendship!
With deep respect to Friedrich Nietzsche...
