my right to melancholy
they offer me pills, colorful candies for the mind, which are supposed to restore my zest for life
my longing is not an illness
it is the only truth I have left
look at the sun
I see how it scorches the earth
how the light lies about warmth
how everything around pretends to be alive.
And this is my freedom,
the right to be unhappy,
without excuses or apologies.
Let my silence be the only honest response to a world that has forgotten silence.
Outside the window is the world. It makes a muffled noise. Their voices reach me in fragments, devoid of meaning.