What urge me to do right?
The emptiness, the consciousness of living in
The void of the feral muting against the vacant, cold
Void, the incensed endeavour to
Rescing the fact of vacuty to be doomed
Neverthless, my imagination, just symbols or
Repressed desires? Vision of adoration and death?
And the disillusion of living in
World that has to be rescued, an age
That is sainted to mental decline and
My incapability to struggle for liberation
My last minute should not be marked
By the realization that I never really lived