Poezja

The pixels refuse to leave 
the screen. There was a 
defiance, unheard so far. 
 
Will not misspeak about 
the rape! Was it not a murder 
of the white goddess in light? 
 
Are you going to shut a 
pink flame, smouldering 
in the vicious grip of greed? 
 
The skinny-dip in boiling 
cauldron of hate? What 
was left now of humor? 
 
Walking on the lake water 
retrieving your youth? Was 
it worth your grand wasted life?