My own killer

Freedom hides in me, A barbaric source of madness, Exposed in life to die, Am I too lucid or a dreamer? When the stars shake off the night, And the moon cries on a mountain corner, I carry with silent resignation The rotten coffin among the graves. A soul trapped in an eternal form That gives birth by killing itself to the same form, I am in solidarity with my own phantom From the day I gave up on being human.