Sleep, sleep, sleep. The wicked of the land arise. The sweat and blood of the people stink in their pockets. Nothing was perfect on the throne. Audible cries of hungry people ignored, while vultures and worms fascinate the man on the throne.
Death is around.
Show your children that madness is impeccable. For they will become the future leaders of our land, leaders with their feet on the ground. In solitude, I smile with tears of hesitation. In this gloomy silence, where fear and hate exist, only the pathetic joys are pondered. In a candlestick of praying sorrow.