For us, all that's left is kisses
tattered as the little bees
that die when they leave the hive.

Where to start?
Everything cracks and shakes,
The air trembles with similes,
No one world's better than another;
the earth moans with metaphors.

My turn shall also come:
I sense the spreading of a wing.

I decided it is better to scream. Silence is the real crime against humanity.