TRAPS OF BROKEN HOPES

 We are now lulled to sleep by our helpless, insurmountable, finite Executioner-Time. You guessed it: the gruesome price of our mortality is no longer available and cannot be exchanged for anything. Because nowadays it is either a blow or a torturous arrogance that would rather trample on others just to finally obtain what it believed was its own. Out there now, selfish glorifiers, petty kings, and puffed-up gnomes are showing the so-called luxury mode. Because sooner or later, perhaps everyone will experience it; all Time is finite. It is not possible to fight or make a fight with blind circumstances. 

Truncated promises - even after so many years - always crawl into our sickening hearts. A naked shadow soaked in the grief of tears almost always wastes and soaks alone. Perhaps it would be better to live on for a while, wrapped in a permanent stoic indifference; after all, the average person can do nothing else. 

With a humiliated sense of shame, they are forced to endure starvation wages, alms-like payments, so that they can somehow pay their utility bills and piles of bills with gritted teeth. Now, it seems that everyone is permanently in a fog of brain cell loneliness. So many lame hopes are now being thrown at them, which it would be good to cling to; worries-swallowed dangers do not matter here, where everyone sells everyone. 

There are enough troubles and troubles bustling around in millstone heads, there is no need to unnecessarily add to the curses of the banal troubles. We can hardly see the redeeming child-smile tickets on people's faces now; sincere human intention and unconditional human goodness seem to be lost from them. All bonds of love that once bound two hearts together voluntarily and with good intentions have now cooled.