This poem belongs to the Voice of Dementia collection [2005-2006]
Nestled in itself, a frail existence sits curled up in a dim corner
Blocking the lights around,
From the vision of the heart-piercing falseness
Of mortals and their kind.
Their horrid light show of power, prestige,
The rotting exhibition of emotions and expressions.
It covers its ears,
No more it wants to hear,
The dying voice of helplessness,
Pleas and wails of the disgraced,
Promises with sinister reasons,
Hollow words with no meanings.
Its own shadow shadow scares it,
Terrorizes it such, it screams.
The winds of time howl outside, rains of critique beat threateningly,
On the window pane of existence.
They who view it - the spectators - know nothing,
Neither what haunts it,
Nor its fear of the unknown.