Once, I stood before that colossal wall,
my fist raised high against its silent, towering face.
Again, and again, and again, I struck—
yet it only gazed down upon me in cold arrogance.
My knuckles split, bones cracked, skin tore, blood spilled.
Still, I kept striking.
But it was always me who broke, never the wall.
And then, I understood.
This was no mere physical barrier.
It was a vast architecture enclosing the world itself—
stones of vested interest stacked high,
cemented with the mortar of profit and loss,
its view shrouded in the black fog of indoctrination.
An endless prison wall, unyielding and absolute.
Maze
I stopped raising my fist.
Not because I had given up—
but because I had learned:
there are things that cannot be shattered by sheer force.
So I began searching for an exit.
Feeling my way along the inside of the wall,
as though moving through a heavy fog,
stumbling into dead ends,
again and again,
wandering between despair and fragile hope.
I starved, I thirsted.
At night I chewed bitter weeds;
in the morning I drank from the dew.
Still, no exit revealed itself.
And when I finally reached a place that seemed like the end—
it was, absurdly, where I had begun.
The wall stood before me once more,
mocking me.
I had lost everything.
Broken in spirit, exhausted in body,
I collapsed to the ground.
The Machinery of Control
I know what built this wall.
It is not only politicians and bureaucrats.
It is schools, corporations, media, and law—
each invisible part complementing the others,
forming a single, massive machine of control.
Its fuel is a toxin,
seeping deep into the human heart:
the relentless calculus of personal gain.
People smile, swipe on their phones,
and spend another day chasing their own advantage.
Yet they do not see—
that this is what binds them in place.
That this is what makes the wall thicker, taller,
and harder than ever before.
Premonition
For those who escape,
social annihilation awaits.
They will lose their place, their belonging,
and fall into the abyss.
Here, in that abyss, I endure.
Yet something within me is certain—
change has already begun.
Somewhere unseen.
Or perhaps, seen but refused.
A change, quiet and patient,
that may one day swell into a great upheaval,
reshaping the very form of this world.
The premonition speaks to me clearly.
Thirst
I thirst for what lies beyond that change.
I still cannot see the exit from here.
But when I close my eyes, I feel it—
coming closer, from somewhere far away.
I endure, but I do not yield.
Here, in the depths of the abyss,
I stare into the future.
This is the English version of the article → Japanese version