Sphere

At the bottom of the edge of pain I lie for days and no one hears me. Underneath me there is a pile of skeletons and I warm them waiting for salvation. Not even the moon can be seen, but only one or two stars I could see blinding.
Femurs and skulls with no sense are my own legacy. I am the actor without scorn and they are waiting thirsty for the origin to fall on them.
I lost a little bit of my equilibrium and I touched an ancient mandible, on which the sadness mushrooms started to grow.
What terror pushes in the moment of silence on the face of the cornea! Blood Rivers start to drain on the enormous cover of the cursed eye.
Nobody hears me? Answer, you soldiers of silence!!!
What are you waiting for, go there and fight! Wake up from the impotence of the abandoned state and conquer the borders of this abyss!
From now on I’ll be your leader and look for my roar in your hearts, in your lazy asses.
Move, you bastards!
It was in vain; they didn’t even move the smallest piece from their bone fibre. What stupid vanished army … exactly here have I found myself to be a thinker?!
I raised from the ground, screamed straight up to the stars as long as I could, then it came back to myself and what I see … is a pile of itinerant bones, tide on by a nocturnal mystery.
How fast the time flew!