The outside

Nigredo II

It hurts... And a steel spike pierces me every time I wake up from a deep sleep.

It is hypocritical... It makes me a puppet of the system, yet brings the utopia that I should feel happy this way.

It shames me... It shows me obscene things and everything people have made of love.

It is worthless... It shows me flowers in the garden, but they have rotten roots.

It made me lose my primitive essence, becoming yet another servant of it.

It is cunning. It makes me feel guilty when I turn my back on it.

And that’s why I betray it, I run from it...

I need to breathe, to go outside, because it suffocates me.

It wants to trap me, and it uses all its tricks to succeed.

And I want to leave, to escape it, but it won’t let me go...

It turned my virtues into conveniences; it is synonymous with malice.

And with each passing year, as I grow older, it tirelessly fights for my loyalty.

But I will not be stopped by its sharpness.

My loud scream echoes strongly.

I hate you, cursed REALITY...