I am not the person you see in me.
I am deeply spoiled by words, by colours,
by light, by sounds,
by stone.
I am slightly damaged by speech,
by deeds,
by wishful thinking,
by longings and by dreams.

I am full of me.
I stand next to me.
I hold my hand, I cut my head off.
I stay. I go.
I am a satanic enterprise.
I am addictive. I am full of lies.
I am not the one you thought I was.