The killer lives inside me: I can feel him move. Sometimes hes lightly sleeping in the quiet of his room, but then his eyes will rise and stare through mine; hell speak my words and slice my mind inside. The killer lives. The angels live inside me: I can feel them smile.... Their presence strokes and soothes the tempest in my mind and their love can heal the wounds that I have wrought. They watch me as I go to fall--well, I know I shall be caught, For the angels live. How can I be free? How can I get help? Am I really me? Am I someone else? But stalking in my cloisters hang the acolytes of gloom and Deaths Head throws his cloak onto the corner of my room and I am doomed.. But laughing in my courtyard play the pranksters of my youth and solemn, waiting Old Man in the gables of the roof: he tells me truth... And I, too, live inside me and very often dont know who I am: I know, Im not a hero.....I hope that Im not damned. Im just a man, and killers, angels, all are these: Dictators, saviours , refugees in war and peace as long as Man lives.... Im just a man, and killers, angels, all are these: Dictators, saviours, refugees
Posted on: Sat, 01 Nov 2014 00:19:04 +0000
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