This man.

He sits on my shoulder.
He whispers in my ear.
He tells me things.

Mad things.
Crazy things.
Insane things.

Things indeed!

Now I turn my head to listen.
Now I cross that silent line.

It is here that I cradle insanity,
like a treasure.

Here that the hate can flow freely.

Now I feel it...

The break in the brain,
that can never be mended.

Like Athena from Zeus,
this Little Mad Man
sprang from my head.

He was born from the mind,
and the death of a heart.