So many voices,
Ringing, ringing, ringing.
So full in my ears…
till they bleed world flags…
and drip on the ground simply black.
No coat, no armor, no flag.
Just black.
Ringing, ringing, ringing…
till my eyes see red,
and my throat goes dry…
till debate sounds like death, and words make me spin.
“ International cooperation”
“ Implementation”
“Initiative”
“ Peace.”
Ringing, ringing, ringing…
Ringing in that small room.
A small room with small doors,
small windows….
small windows which with we see the outside world.
It is a world of no doors, no windows,
Actions and death.
Real lives and real consequences.
They live the words that are ringing in my ears.
They live the deaths we throw so easily at the wall.
at the walls of a small room…
and the deaths that echo so casually on small windows…
never reaching outside,
bouncing off to ring, ring, ring in my ears…
in my heart and soul.
We are but a room…
a room of words and ambitions.
Empty words, raging ambition…
Ringing, ringing, ringing.
Ringing on empty ears.
Good days, bad days… you see it all at a Model United Nations Conference. This was a bad day. This was the poem of my brief loss of hope and motivation in the concept of mock- global diplomacy.