[THE RIGHT]
I am not real. It was his fault.
This is your dream.
Help times: 7.
Help
He sent me here.
He doesn't know.
It's your doing; stop.
Help times 6.
Help
If you see this, it's not true.
Stop lying; we all know it's a joke.
Ok, it's fine, but remember your fate.
Help times: 5
Help
STOP.
Stop him, please.
It's too late to start this yesterday.
Help times 4
Help
Hey, look at him.
He doesn't know.
But YOU DO.
Help times 3
Help?
hehe ! a funny joke.
He always knows how to make me smile!
I'll never be happy! Will I?
Help times 2
Help.
Oh, there's someone new.
It was his fault
This is a dream. Wake up pretty, please.
Help times 1
Help
I live in the right; he lives in normality.
They live in the wrong. Can they hear me?
Don't just sit there and watch; look closer.
He's always somewhere!
Help times: 7.
The walls and corridors go on forever. I can't see the end of it.
Banjo had scribbled his desperate poem—the words "Help times 7"—in a fit of frustration and longing, etched into the walls of The Right as he wandered its endless halls. Each plea was an echo of his desire to break free from the forced laughter and hollow joy, to find something real beneath the artificial happiness. Every "help" was a crack in the mask he was made to wear, a whisper of the self he couldn't reach.
YOU ARE READING
Help times: 7
Krótkie OpowiadaniaIn a world called "the right," lives the leader of a group of cat-like creatures, "banjo." He wrote this poem to convey how his fake joy was imprisoning him. He desires freedom.
