Good

He rises on two feet bowed to the waist before a picture. He sits humbled on the ground kisses the dust at the sound of the great picture's name and cries of hail and hail are flung from his mouth across the whole room. Without any why his days have become night his countless nights have become day picture after picture he has bowed he has knelt he has kissed the dust, the "good" citizen at whose order I was eliminated I: who was always "bad".... am "bad"... will be "bad"...