the man without a past

i entered a room of mirrors

the room entered  me..

 

we became brothers

cannibals of  soul..

 

we were the grand dreams 

each conceived in the other's 

silent sleep

 

we could not look without the other's eyes

concurring.. 

then i hated and desired..

an existence mired in sorrow..

 

then i killed myself 

 bathed in my own blood..

 

and out of that death

blossomed

a flower with no face 

pinned on the shirt of 

the man without a past..

 

and 

now,

all who hate 'me'

are granted one more chance 

to try and love...