In the hour of self-pity

 
I thought the devastation on all total levels had now become permanent. The swings of the playground were used by strange hands, as well as faces bleeding from wounds. Many times it would have been better blindfolded than stumbling through human-lost, accelerating Time deaf-blind. It's as if only the hostile children play just like a cat with a mouse. We kill and humiliate each other at the same time, just like absolute adults.

Then I dream of an empty tire room. Crayons, colored felt-tip pens on the table - I'm standing high on top of the big slide; someone will knock you down unnoticed, but I would still cling to the useless ring of steel railings. No one lends a supportive hand or even helps!

I am amazed at how palpable the evil tendency of the comic is even in childhood, and I am terrified of those who have ruined me spiritually and put my life on hold. – I still remember the pathetic continuation, I found myself alone again with my grotesque existence.

The dream - even though it's over - can't let you rest. First of all, it doesn't hurt to sincerely comfort me, only then can I be somewhat encouraged. I must remember the crying dog-whining penguin-man, who was only eighteen, but even then he peed constantly.

Even now, I understandably hate those dire times! My terrible vibration - whatever happens - I will never forgive! Banned competitions are all thwarted sooner or later. The screeching of ravens and croaking mourning crows slowly descends into a life-and-death struggle, and even leads to blood. All the witnesses of the same age retreat and disappear, because they were afraid and trembled to confess: finally, your old childhood friend calls you or sends an online message to the interrogator, asking you to account: "Why couldn't you eliminate your own comfort zone?!" "I'll have enough!" You cowardly dust of mortals! – I orbit more slowly, more uncertainly than a self-governing planet in the inner, spawned light!