... Personality | final version

As a worn-out snake's skin
They crumble, left behind....

Here they come, a field of masks
Barren, contaminated
Impossible to forget
On the edge of it you
Hammer off layer by layer
The brass shells
That got stuck on you over the years

Behind you a vague shadow of a man
Who might have been born once
As a free bird
Or a wolf, one of a pack

To live for real

But the feathers fell off
Burnt with a set metal
And no howling of a wolf
Will ever penetrate you
You will not get to the living tissue
even if you hammered for a thousand years

Now, sound proud, man
Rythmically, constantly, hollow


(February,2013 :))