Poet of the River (july 27 1994 / California, but move around a lot.)

i wash my hands as the water runs red.
i am fine but at my feet someone lies dead.
he lie with his hands around the gun.
what have i done?
what have i done?
this stranger that lies at my feet
was someone i never knew.
what did i do?
what did i do?
he tried to scream,
but no one would hear.
he tried to go to a window,
but no one would see.
how can this be?
how can this be?
he was a shadow of sanity,
he was trapped safely inside me,
but the cage that protected him shattered.
and now he is gone,
the shadow who kept me sane,
broke free.
a shadow who's sanity is dead,
a shadow.
the shadow is me.
now i see.
now i see.
now i see what life has done to me.
and how it took my shadow.
and my sanity.