Threat storm, in a scenario of dark storm clouds
where a bog is well defined to the horizon
by two ropes.
In equilibrium measured to the millimeter they are suspended,
as if it were a puppet, a car, baggage
banana of a brave and quarrelsome ogre.
Shot by a seagull, restless before the stalking of those redoubts
minority that dominate today.
One hand, member amputated from a non-existent being,
controls his threads while we suffer, as observers,
the aggression of those who do not want be recognized.
Making the game to the warpers and mercenaries is usually
reason to perish.