There’s a madman inside me
Ranting and pounding against an old wooden door
The hinges are old green brass
The knob of glass with swirls of crystalline whimsy
The madman hammers his fists against the door
..and I pause before I ask
“Who is there?”
My voice sounds hollow as I ask
For I know the answer
He answers me only with a soft cry
“Let me in,” he sighs
“But I don’t know you” says the hollow voice
And with an intake of air I twist the knob
And there he stands, shaggy and forlorn
Gaunt with hunger and wracked by thirst
His lips cracked and his hair matted
Grey and cold soaked covered in rags
“What do you want?”Asks the hollow voice
“What do you want?” I ask.
“I want you to see me, I want you to feel me, to remember who I am” he said.
“But you are me”, I say plain and clear. “I know you are here all the time” I say.
“Then why don’t you feed me?” He asks sublime. “Why have you hidden me from the sun?”
“Why are you wearing those old grey rags? Why only dance in the moonlight?” I ask.
I know the answer, but still ask again, and no answer comes from his cold lips.
He turned then and stepped softly away from my door, stepped into the dark of the moon.
I closed the door softly with hardly a thought as the sun chased the dark from the sky.
It occurred to me, as he stepped away, as the door closed behind him and he disappeared into the darkness, it occurred to me then, the madman I'd seen, was none other than the mad man, who was actually me.
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