My old self, it does strangle me
clothed in its hard shell . . . a prisoner
laying in its casket, I yearn for escape
that great flight to take me hither
Oh, downward I must descend in that long walk
seeking the darker land
release me of my old self!
free me from its clutches!
spiral me downward . . . downward
to death I must abide . . . seeking death
there I wield the axe
there I make the great swing
such hesitation is there in such thoughts
oh, but the need. The need!
may my old self roll on the block
yes . . . by my own hand!
such beauty there is in such things
such . . . truth
released so, I may breath again
and see a new budding . . . of a new self