Too exhausted for life,
But too fearful to die,
All my thoughts are a strife,
I'm to frightened to try
To somehow fix my life...

Every morning I fall out of sleep...
And then nothing. No wishes, no goals,
No emotions, just strong urge to weep
All the stresses have taken their tolls.

I'm a robot. I'm broken. No power.
Every chore feels like greatest of feats.
Climbing steps? More like climbing a tower
Of ten thousand floors. And each day it repeats.

I could use metaphors, I could say something dumb,
Like "I feel I'm an onion who loves the self-harm".
But I don't feel the pain, all my feelings are numb,
and I don't have an itch of the weins on my arm.

I just want to have feelings,
to bring back bright emotions.
But for now I'm not healing,
I'm just swallowing potions...

Ideality.
It has many synonyms.
The best one's "boredom".

The stars were bright above my head,
but mind of mine was filled with dread.
How could my actions have misled
me to a hell like this?
What laws of nature did I break?
And where I made such big mistake?
And how much horrors will awake
and rise from black abyss?

I think this all began the day
I bought a house in the bay
I should have listened what they say:
this place was ****** for good!
But it was cheap, as deadly bogs
With crooked trees and stinky fogs
and countless hoards of homeless dogs
aren't pleasant neighborhood.

I lived there quietly for a year
and awful swamps located here
were not at all a source of fear,
but rusty house was.
I had to catch the rain with bowls,
the wind was welcome through the walls:
They, like the roof, are full of holes,
and hence my anger rose.

I couldn't then afford to fix
or to rebuild this house with bricks,
although I feared of facing Styx
if it was to collapse.
I hardly ever slept at all.
I heard strange noises in the wall
beside my bad, like insects crawl…
'Twas just my mind, perhaps…

And once I woke again at night
and saw a dim and lonely light
just at a border of my sight.
In bayous it appeared.
I quickly put my jacket on
and, trying to suppress my yawn,
I ran to that phenomenon.
That totally was weird!

As I drew near, I saw a maid.
She seemed confused and quite afraid
of something. 'Please, I need your aid!'
she cried. 'My brother's lost!'
I saw some teardrops cross her face.
I was bedazzled by her grace!
'I'll save your brother from this place,
I'll help, at any cost!'

With that into the night I raced
in an extremely thoughtless haste.
And under shiny stars I faced
what seemed like certain death.
A horrid beast from waters rose.
I noticed how the water froze
In pools that were a bit too close...
I couldn't take a breath!

I didn't, though, become a prey.
Twas quite a luck, I can't gainsay.
I don't know how I found my way,
but still, I reached my shack
I hear the beast's spine-chilling groan.
I know this building's my tombstone,
If only I could've somehow known!
Why can't I turn it back?

Moirai will any minute cut
my thread of life. I'm ready, but
I want that beast crushed by this hut.
Is this too much to wish?
What takes that devil so **** long?
Should I attract it with a gong?
Hey, freak, I'm here! What is wrong?
Just come and eat your dish!

But then... Two monsters at my door!
I started crying on the floor,
I loudly cursed, blasphemed and swore...
But then I raised my head:
"You found my brother! Sweet of you!
I hope he didn't catch the flu...
We need to go now, friend! Adieu!"
That's what the girl's voice said.

At last, we'll live in piece forever!
Four Horsemen will not ever walk
On Earth with sulfurous endeavor:
It's one past twelwe on Doomsday Clock.

I am building my shack in the depth of the woods,
So I'll never be bothered again.
They assume that I know all their bads and their goods
And I must give advice there and then.

Yes, I'm wearing a robe and I walk in the trees
With some animals running along.
I can heal your disease with some mushrooms and teas,
But I can't make you manly and strong.

I am one with the nature, but everyone asks
For some philter or prettier face.
I am tired of silly and pointless tasks,
So I moved to a prettier place.

Now I finished constructing this dwelling of mine
Where I'll hide from the rest of the men.
I'm not angry at them, they are perfectly fine,
When their mind isn't that of a hen...

He gazed at Them, as he was young,
As They — so strong, so great!
He strongly wished to be among
Them once, to be Their mate!..

Those soldiers with their shiny guns --
No doubt He was impressed.
And every boy'd see Them as ones
Who's best of all the best.

Of course He dreamed to be like Those!
So tall, so brave, so cool!
And surely, They'll defeat all foes,
He thought. Oh, what a fool!

He is now one. As every male.
The war is not a fairytale...
The bombs explode, the bullets fly.
The ones he knew all fall and die...

He doesn't look like Them at all.
They were so handsome, shiny, tall...
He lies in dirt, his jacket's torn,
His stomach bleeds. He feels forlorn.

No doctor's coming anymore.
No mercy's coming from the war.
He slowly blinks, His vision shrinks.
Last minute comes. He smiles and thinks:

"Is this what I was dreaming for?"