So why am I moping the floor with my face?
why are the walls lathered in my blood?
why do I constantly bang my head against the wall?
Has all sanity deserted me?

I crouch in the shadows, shun all light
and seek the counsel of nocturnal dwellers whatever they be-
at the sight of light we ram our heads together-
‘the light shall not come in’ in unison

But this day as the sun reared his graceful head
I saw inscribed in his chest ‘Where hope grows’

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