Part III (ext) – Poem of a mad man


Fallen are the words of old,
A screaming wind my soul has sold.
Too high the heights, that I have found.

Fallen too, the highest foul,
The angel, that clawed wings so cruel
In my despair and guilt unbound.

As hands then reached a stranger one,
And moments too familiar shone,
Lost the word another Reich.

Too late my heart could realize
Our words were but demise,
For heaven and for hell alike.

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