I am nothing.
I am nothing.
And how can I
not be?
I
have spent my life,
all the years of my life,
in
silent staring
through the narrow cracks of the walls,
that were built around me,
I
accepted them as destiny,
you see,
as
destiny.
I never once thought of challenging
the fact
of them,
or breaking
through to be free.
To be free.
I never wanted to be free.
I, rather, relished my misery.
I gloried in the very fact
of my
serfdom.
I relished my slavery.
I must be nothingness then,
what else
could I be?
What else could
I be?