Rage forged me in workshops where iron ran wild,
An alloy for steep flight, for slash and rupture.
Tempered in the furnace, charged with dangerous blue-grey,
To burst into space at a fatal, jagged slant.
No face, no name – only trajectory and speed,
A burning pulse searching for the edge of death.
A brief biography: blunt mechanical cruelty,
Carried in my own body through the gloom of factories.
The explosion spat me into the sky – I merged with a bitter scream,
Piercing clouds, hunting for flesh and granite.
A jagged edge embedded in the walls with a wild echo,
Erasing the cozy world forever with the sound of death.
Here I froze suddenly. A step away from a faint smile
Frozen in a photo frame under shattered glass.
Nearby – a child’s blanket and an abandoned yellow mouse,
Which I barely grazed with my scorched-out rib.
I became part of the wall. A chilled, mute witness.
In the dense emptiness – a fracture of metal and soul.
I stare into the dark where the only trace remains
Of those who once shared the evening at the family table.
Lodged in torn wallpaper. An element of someone else’s decor.
An uninvited guest who brought destructive fire.
I hold the frame – now a stiffened support –
In place of living, warm human hands.