Do you still walk on soft roses thrown
So that you do not feel the harsh ground beneath?
Do you still gaze at the beautiful view
Accorded by the paintings
Hung to hide the drabness of your surroundings?
Do you still listen in fascination
To the aria specially composed for you
To drown out the screams of reality from your ears?
Do you still sleep on eider beds
With feathered pillows and gossamer blankets
So that the cruel harshness of cotton doesn’t touch you?
Do you still gaze up at the ceilings
Painted as an image of a perfect dawn
So that you do not know the ferocious darkness of the night?
Do you still live
After they took the right away from you
To experience pain?
Why do they wonder
At the absence of your smile
When they have taken your capacity
To get hurt
Away from you?