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    Яαgιи Яαvєи
    Cairo, Egypt
    Wanting people to listen, you can't just tap them on the shoulder anymore. You have to hit them with a sledgehammer, and then you'll notice you've got their strict attention.
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Tapping at my chamber door




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Are you God?


It's basically a yes or no question. There are no all of the aboves, no multiple choices. Look into your life, your past, your childhood, your job, your family, your lies, your own goddamn reflection in the mirror. In the eyes of many, you probably are. You have the last word in saying who gets to live and who doesn't. You bless some with your grants and "aids" and order the termination and crucifixion of others. You make people disappear. You order their families to forget. In regards to blasphemy, you show no mercy. You're everywhere. You see all evil and hear all evil. If one mutters a single word that might desecrate your mighty form or violates the sacredness of your presence, they're doomed into eternal damnation; they become hostile and terrorist-friendly. You have all lives taped and the slight vocal recording that hints to the possibility of a disbeliever enrages you and provides you with a lead on a possible murderer, a potential terrorist. That's when you start printing their photo in school history books and teach children that their picture is that of evil in human form... and you?! You're the one who's here to tell them the truth, to show them right and wrong, to share something precious that you refer to as values. You tell them all sorts of verses from your very own biographical tale, our newly distributed bible. You read them bedtime stories about a very bad man and how you've ordered to have his head on a stick and made an example out of it for public demonstration, how you're the One they should listen to, how you're God…

… and we listen… quietly… Judging? I'm not sure anymore. We witness your inhumane acts that are absolutely in contravention of all conventions and treaties signed by people, good and bad… people who thought, at one point, that they were gods as well; people who lived in your big white house, ate on your table, and ass-marked your throne, gods that are dead now or are very, very old.

Your whip shortens with the pass of time, your power will fade, and your ugly black bitch will soon be dead… and all that'll remain is an empty leash for you to hang yourself with. You may be the god of the new millennium, but you are not infinite. You are still mortal. Someday you will die.


What gives you the right to lead… and why o why are we following you?

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