Cold, ashamed, inside.

This feeling, my heart becomes a war,

Escaping this door that I have closed, hiding destinys score.

--

Swept, alone, opposed.

My conscience contolled, confirmed, engrossed.

In feelings so cloned, on lone, imposed,

More than childhood supposed.

--

We blend, inforced, observed

Impending exposure on lone from the cursed, relenting composure expected and worse,

More than pain could rehearse.

--

Who is this shadow that sits next to me?

Who is this beggar that eats through my tongue?

Who is this comic who mingles and endears from within me?

--

Who is this copy?

This cold one who points to my grave.