I am Being Played

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Abstract

I am walking through it the way it has to be walked-- step by step to death.</p><p id="77f3">No one can tell me what I should or shouldn’t do.</p><p id="2460">I was born in a time of peace. I didn’t have to hide from bombs falling on my head. I saw other things, nasty ones. Broken faces, broken lives. Bloody knives, bloody hearts.</p><p id="0bca">Dreams disappearing on a foil of heroin smoke. Dreams lost on the floor of brothels of innocent love.</p><p id="3789">Dreams sunken in a glass of wine.</p><p id="3b7b">I don’t care about made up disasters. I don’t care about your lies, your control of the masses.</p><p id="d99f">I lived enough to see your kind. I know how your kind is, how it looks. When you were a kid no one wanted to play with you, your soul stunk even then. You don’t know what love is, you don’t know how it feels to fall asleep in your mother's arms.</p><p id="cfb0">You learned to lie and deceive.</p><p id="f880">If we would meet, you would run away from me as you’d see the fury in my eyes. That’s why you never walk alone, you have people protecting you.</p><p id="c44a">The time will come a

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nd you will be given to the dogs. You hope that you will get away with murder but the monsters have you by the balls.</p><p id="aac5">You are so desperate, you tell people that they have to watch out all the time and report ANYTHING SUSPICIOUS. You projected your fear on those who are already afraid.</p><p id="77fe">You are a sick, cruel piece of mud, unworthy to walk on the earth. Your time is up.</p><div id="8903" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/be-open-submission-guidelines-41ea51ef4ef1"> <div> <div> <h2>We Invite You to Become Our Writer — Be Open Submission Guidelines</h2> <div><h3>You don’t have to be a great writer or super perfect human to contribute here. I believe everyone can become inspirator…</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*eBrTZS3wC0WwzBZjivi7tg.png)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

The fury in me

I am an immigrant looking at the world with a sceptical eye.

I feel that I am being played. Yep.

I am being played. By people who set the game rules. By people who bearly are people. By monsters without beating hearts in their chests. Cold blood running in their veins. Cheats, liars, murderers.

I am a middle-aged, white man. I am told that it’s my fault that the world is in the mess.

What can I say to that? I say — fuck you.

You have no idea who I am and how I see this film called “life”.

I am walking through it the way it has to be walked-- step by step to death.

No one can tell me what I should or shouldn’t do.

I was born in a time of peace. I didn’t have to hide from bombs falling on my head. I saw other things, nasty ones. Broken faces, broken lives. Bloody knives, bloody hearts.

Dreams disappearing on a foil of heroin smoke. Dreams lost on the floor of brothels of innocent love.

Dreams sunken in a glass of wine.

I don’t care about made up disasters. I don’t care about your lies, your control of the masses.

I lived enough to see your kind. I know how your kind is, how it looks. When you were a kid no one wanted to play with you, your soul stunk even then. You don’t know what love is, you don’t know how it feels to fall asleep in your mother's arms.

You learned to lie and deceive.

If we would meet, you would run away from me as you’d see the fury in my eyes. That’s why you never walk alone, you have people protecting you.

The time will come and you will be given to the dogs. You hope that you will get away with murder but the monsters have you by the balls.

You are so desperate, you tell people that they have to watch out all the time and report ANYTHING SUSPICIOUS. You projected your fear on those who are already afraid.

You are a sick, cruel piece of mud, unworthy to walk on the earth. Your time is up.