Jeflecri hikaye

Here is a poetry without a story, without a poet, without beauty. It's barely poetry, the sharing of a desperate being, A cry for help, perhaps? Who are we in this drifting world? Where is the beauty in enslavement? Is it the same world repeating itself, With the same images, the same patterns? *For the sake of transparency, my poetry collection "Poesie sans histoire has been translated into English using artificial intelligence.*