It's not so much a storm,
But just a cloud that lives inside of me.
He doesn't stir so easily these days,
But when he wakes he goes the distance.
In a marathon of days too long.
Open containers that sing songs,
"You'll never dream again, but you can pray."
In the depths of my heart I can’t help being convinced that my dear fellow-men, with a few exceptions, are worthless.
- Sigmund Freud