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I have grown a second head, one just to the right of my own.

Or am I to the left of it?

This head is much different than my own, or should I say, me.

My face is less wrinkled and less bitter.

My face is smiles, smiles, smiles.

My other face, on the new head.

Seems angry all the time, cursing and spitting venom.

He sees and feels the injustice and the pain.

While I see the bright and shinning side of everything, whether it is real or not.

He sees the hate and anxiety that all men create.

And I see the positive potentials and niceties.

He sees the truth, I feed the lies.

My other me, the second head, my living alter ego.

The me, which you cannot see.

But I see him, and he whispers in my ear.

“Keep lying to yourself that all will be well, you will see in time, you are wrong, and I am right”.

I am talking to myself, arguing and fighting and trying to appease.

The inner demon within, is now out, and about.

Some have angels or devils, perched upon their shoulders.

I just have myself, and only myself, to blame.

So, as it is, my shoulders wear the burden, of the extra weight.

I will always have someone to talk to, never to be alone again.

I’ll just sit here, and talk, to myself.



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