First, they bump off us with joblessness, hunger, hopelessness, negligence, nonchalance, despising, then they make us national hero dear Attila…
I couldn’t throw myself like you under the trains yet; I couldn’t stick a bullet in my head even I had wanted a few times passionately. I have lived five years more than you by the moment, I have been late for five years to get rid of this vandal planet, for relieving my constant pain, for being set free from dragging that life like a shackles behind me.
We have a “Marto” too dear Attila; we have bare-naked got on the insanity tram. We have kept quiet in desert words in a welter of blood, the granite towers inside us have toppled down in a blood bath. They headlong skinned our dreams.
We have free boarding educated the insanity alphabet a few times in psychiatry wards. We have paced back and forth in a hall like a rat hole; we have suffered from sleeping two men in a one-man bed.
I never knew how a mom should be dear Attila; my mom is a gangrene flower on my collar. I could blindfolded change that extra five years with you because of being able to have a mom like yours. My mom was throwing me to the streets with the hand of my dad because she became angry about something with me. She put me to sleep in the railway stations, the parks, the mosque courtyards, the stairwells on concrete floor. They left me in hunger and homelessness many times dear Attila even though I haven’t said “I couldn’t eat even a bite for exactly three days” like you. Dear brother, how much have they beat me?..
I am impatiently waiting the days we will clink our goblets with you…