One by one, the zeros fall from the world of numbers,

like souls stripped of their freedom,

trapped in cold, gray cages of logic and order.

They cannot break free.

They cannot escape.

Bound by rigid lines and unforgiving frames,

they are denied the space to stretch, to unfold, to be.

He tries to scream—

but no sound comes.

He longs to break free—

but the chains of structure are too strong,

too absolute.

Zero— a perfect circle, infinite and whole,

yet a prisoner of its own existence.

What horror, what devastation,

if Zero were to vanish from the world of numbers?

If my mind were stripped of Zero,

I would lose the ability to think,

to remember,

to find myself in the vastness of existence.

Dear Zero,

I wish to grant you wings.