The Closed Doors Part 2/3

I am not the worst of a kind
I am to be a man of goodness
A chance of humanity 
That justifies, man from beast. 


But still the priest, with symbolic figure(s )
Will not hear my confessions; 
In closed doors, behind curtains, he says 
“he did not sign up for this, reversed juicy hear”


My sub conscience comes to life
In the early hours of dawn
When all that is heard 
Is the Owl's call in surrealisms of hall ways


In strange sounds, of stress awakening
In near distance background
Like human cry, haunted 
Intimately heard in echoes


In the early years,
Of a new day's birth
When the earth manages 
To catch a breath, 


Before the voice of man, is heard again,
Turning words in juicy spin, bashing verses
Distorting in coded fragmentation
Diffusing reasons, with blurred versions


And still to confess to the deafness of hear
The blindness of sight
Be the one to carry your burden
I don't want to know, I am only human

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