The Last Night to Die

Oh... America, if you want to kill me, you too, just come and do it now. It is the last night for death. Tomorrow, will born forever if it born.
America, it is your last chance to make me shut up. Or you have to listen to all that I want to say or what I don’t want to. To all that I have to say and what I don’t have. What worse than that? What worse than someone tells you things her head can’t put together, things that may mean nothing to nobody, even to her. What can mean anything in a world of beggars and killers; they beg for anything… they kill everything. A world in which the dreams and lives of millions can be decided to buy some others worthy people (voters, tax payers) or worst, it can be decided to earn a line in history books.
In a world of heroes I have no place, I don’t won’t to be a hero, and of course I won’t play evil that makes heroes, heroes. I need to find some other world on this planet but I have myself that is a big enough world for me though I am mature.
Close your ears I won’t make noise to please you. I will play quietly in my corner. Oh, doesn’t that what you hate most.
Tomorrow will be born.