Hey you!

Yes you.

You ugly thing.

I know you.

You are the one who knows how to detonate bombs.


But that is only what you tell other people.


I know you better than this, to fall for your lies

Or not ?


You are the exact opposite of what you claim to be.

You are the one who meet people, to find their button-the one you claim can switch off their personal nuclear bombs.

For every single one of us is a bomb, dying to explode.


The innocent people, desparate for peace tell all their secrets to you-show you their jewels and even their ashes!


You see that red button and smile to yourself.

Let the party begin, you think.


Sometimes you just threaten

I am gonna press it

I am gonna press it

You chant incessantly

When the person is all ready to burst

I am bored, you announce.

And leave.

What torture!


But I know that you come back.

You always do.

You can never deny the little pleasure to yourself, of starting a nuclear war, given that it is at another person’s expense.


So your little, fat, and hideous index finger does its work.


Your hysterical laughs!

You leave.


What about the one facing the aftermath of your action?






That is the first phase.


Remnants of nuclear war,

The second phase.

Broken things

Crippled heart

Twisted nerves

Genetic mutations


And yet they heal

The third phase

Time, the saviour!



Years pass


Or mere centuries.


Other people learn their lesson.

They never fall for your hoax

Or show you a different lever to press

Some even try to return your favours


But not her

And you know it.

A thousand times you blow her to pieces

And yet she keeps presenting her broken, poorly repaired triggering button

For you to press.



She knows you have no button

Of your own.

Someone stole yours

Ages ago

And left you only with

An urge to press!


Oh you empty thing

How she pities you

You have no amunition

She has plenty

So she offers you hers

It never runs out!

2 thoughts on “Fission or Fusion?

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