IRC-Galleria

Brittle Thread

hollowness
filled my mind and eyes
no voices, whispers, music
or laughter
from the music box of the little children
tinkling of the black ballerina

spider webs
carry my captured body
my blind world black and white
turns around the abandoned room
again and again

kerto
cold face of marble
glassy look of the eyes
a doll with delicate feet
dances the dance told
by the mockers
it is not time to cry
not the time for tears
but the time of the brittle thread
that kept me up
when others snapped
soul is gone

my friend the drummer
is no longer here
broken are
his drumsticks
he met the destruction of Cerberus
my dear friend
I can't shed any tears
I am a doll
without feelings

merciless rats
gnaw my dress
humiliating me for life
do I get free of all fears
and shame?
let me breathe

something beats inside me
a glass heart so brittle cries
"Freedom! Freedom!
Time of tears has come!"
jolt, shivers
run down my spine
time of revolution
time of revenge
time of feelings
and war
even the most brittle thread breaks
in the end

it's all over, you can get
through it, still I'm born