Voices

Voices

The mercenary wants to assassinate the philosopher,
While this one thinks and sets the pause.
The artist writes away and mocks at them,
The athlete does not have time to stop and discuss.
Behind them there is a clown—he is pitiful.
Voices interchange trying to overpower one another,
The philosopher is tired of nonsense, rationality sets in.
The artist keeps mocking, for trying to make sense of it all,
Push, hurry, there is more to do—the athlete keeps on running
But among them a child cries—all stare and look.
They can not move if the child weeps.
The mercenary has now fled,
The athlete grown tired—and the artist lacks inspiration
The philosopher has humbled,
And the child no longer cries.
Who is there now?
No one is.