Hellfire in My Backpack

I walk these streets where chaos breeds,

Where gypsies crawl and spread their weeds.

They mock, they shove, they spit on pride,

In this Ukraine where truth has died.

Politicians lie like snakes in the sun,

A circus of clowns, their job’s never done.

I spit on your promises, your fake parade,

I’m not your pawn, your pawn’s betrayed.

But watch me, fools, as I rise and roar,

With my shockproof tablet, my techy war.

A phone that laughs at your broken streets,

A console to drown out your lies and cheats.

I hug my plush elephant, small but mighty,

Carry my backpack, hand-luggage tightly.

I am grown, yet a child, both fierce and free,

And your bullshit won’t tether me.

So burn your rules, your politics, your spite,

I’ll turn this trashfire into my light.

With gadgets, cuddles, my own damn choice,

I’ll scream, I’ll laugh — I’ll reclaim my voice.