Concealed identity

Pardon me for keeping silent

and concealed under the circumstances

of the failures and shortcomings of man

resulting in such irremediable tragedies

that nothing ever can refrain the gods from weeping 

constantly profusely over man’s disastrous incapacity

of handling his own fate and course of action,

turning all of history into a cesspool of black tragedy

of hopelessness, like a black hole of no escape from hell,

an infinity of sorrows and a universal ocean of tears;

so I keep out of man’s affairs of only vicious circles,

hiding my identity and face in anonymity

to spare humanity the terrible reality and aspect of my scars,

that go too deep under the skin of universal life

like undermining all existence and humanity

with some volcanic earthquakes of its lost cause to perdition,

leaving life no meaning left but death.

I wear dark glasses just to spare my friends

the sadness of my eyes and heart and soul

and keep surviving merely by not yet dying,

the most ultimate and natural thing to do

and nothing else, while socially I appear a perfect lady,

strong and stalwart, stable and a splendid sport

but only for a show to hide the fact

that inside I am crying my heart out forever.