Inside a box like pigeons,

there we think the God we are,

afraid from the difference.

Chasing society’s illusions

Through the broken clock

Other blind fools we fight.

All as part of an ignorant mass

Through our dark mirror

Only the others demons we can see.

In solitude lost we are

Other souls stalking

By the use of expired bodies.

Inside the poor mess of our thoughts

Painful being is

Although greater than us there is not.

In the smirking hand of Death

Where faith guided in circle we dance

Life just passes by

He came into the office and said: "Since four months I was telling him to stop mimicking and behaving like that devilish kid otherwise I would have beaten him. You know when on one shoulder is the devil, on the other is the angel and in between is the head? That kid from my brother's kindergarten is none of that, he is Satan, he looks like Down, drools and makes strange movements. My brother is four years old and that is the age when he becomes good or bad, demon or angel. He was behaving like that demon and so I did beat him".

Paul is a handsome tall 25-years old guy, very well mannered, empathic and polite. He expresses a big deal of love towards his younger brother, telling that he is the one raising him and being emotional while talking about their connection.

Being neglected by his working mother and his alcoholic father, years back Paul found solution on the street, first selling and then consuming cannabis.

When getting confronted about his violent behaviour towards his brother Paul cannot understand the concept of love without violence: "Don't tell me that you have never been slapped by your parents while doing mistakes on your childhood. There is no parent that doesn't at least slap their children for their betterment. That's how my friends and I are raised up".

The scene of our conversation has been replaying non stop at the back of my head. It made me think am I good or bad? And why is that important to me?

Subconsciously I crave for others' confirmation and as such to be considered good. Anyhow since that comes with the price of heartache of different levels sometimes I fantasize of being a heartless human being. Why not to be a demon if that means less suffering? Long back in my wild fantasies I imagined my parents dead and myself free from all the fears and life withdrawals that come with the responsibilities of love. I know for sure that both the angel and the demon live inside me and the question which one to feed is like an internal turmoil inside me.