I’m a tramp, I cruise the land and the seas and the thoughts and disease. I do think about my life as the beginning of a knife. I do not know where to go, but I do know for sure, where I go I leave a mark for it is my decision I took the day I was born. Often I dream about the past and I try to deem, but I can’t quite grasp, this feeling it forever will last. I might even tell: “ I do not pretend, this past I demand and I require the truth but there is nothing which will give me proof, you are nothing to me, neither your thoughts. Morality is the issue, which is eating my tissue. I couldn’t yet grasp, did never deny, I hope I’m not living a lie. Now I see you, as the last piece of clue.” I did wrong and I did right, I took decisions with the insight, but I never got told though, the reason unknown, why I am supposed to get it on my own.
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