Birds in Row

Holy great guillotine, I gave you a part of me. Not my 
head, not my chin. Holy great guillotine you ate almost 
all my dreams. I’m condemned to lose something I cherish. 
And to let it all go in a mutual contentment, watching 
the floor getting closer to my face. And there has been 
to trial, something to get what happens to me. Nothing 
but silence. And to silence sign my end. Death to the 
guillotine. We lose and share emptiness of all passions 
and cares. In the end am I just allowed to breathe? Among 
no head bodies, other no head bodies. On our necks a 
better people would sail and they would have fun for 
sure, and we would endure it without wanting to know 
more. My end will be where it’s supposed to be. I know.