Dressed in the colours of void and in what everything been created,
Before the time true atoms could form,
I was there, wholesomely empty and perfectly isolated.

Problems had started with that prismatic nuclear storm
That in fusing colours sent my peace to fission,
Oh, of that galactic war’s physical-chemical reform.

Galactic years ahead falling stars became matter of superstition,
Feral protons and electrons made up a federal,
Referring my presence as a massive juxtaposition.

I’ve been asking and asking since that funless atomic funeral
That I could call as my very first nuclear decay,
Why my nature’d been unclearly declared as neutral.

The problem is more problematic than a highly charged cosmic ray
Coming, for me, meant as being decreased to a segment
Of a ghastly, unwanted, neither-this-nor-that dark social alley.

A nuclear interaction, keeping me needed as an unneeded content
Only to hold the candle for an atom
Of fundamental participles, states me as only a supplement.

Only, though I’m still an I’m-okay element in need of a positivite proton
To charge my dark emptiness,
Being less and too weak to be my own photon.

Atoms come and go, and nuclear reactions are merciless
As new groups get me negated,
Day to day I feel my charge less and less.

I’m a subatomic hero zero that goes with nothing, but the flow related,
Sometimes overrated or out of the norm,
But this is my neutral nature how I was created.

Benyamin Bensalah


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