Those screams still echo in my ears
even though a few weeks have passed.
Even the question marks are bent straight
when not even the most obvious thing meant anything.
On top of the cabinet an old alarm clock
has been left to measure the time that has past.
He was full of wholehearted hopes.
He radiated strength and life force.
But in hindsight
it was very clear between the lines.
The same footprints still lead to the stable.
The door has been bolted from the inside.
There will be a time to tolerate oneself.
But something strange is chafing the neck.
It's a simple tale.
Clean clothes and bed sheets
were hanged to dry on the line.
The troughs are now filled with husks
when the last breads start to get stuck in the throat.
In the corner of the stable a sauna stool
lying on its side...
There will be a time to tolerate oneself...