The voices are gone.

A madman feels sanest when he hears them ringing in his head.. their echoes drown the beat of the real world .. their emotions run deeper than the deepest cut.
Take his disease away from him .. and he is lost. He is himself no more.

We get used to the chaos we live in .. the fear of tomorrow and the anticipation of the same. The fun of today and the torment thats gone by. Insanity is my requiem.

The root of this could be our inspiration. Without it .. a man is nothing. He cannot talk or think the same. When ur drive is gone you feel liek your very existence is a cheat. Whether it be your dreams of utopia or the haze of a dream you very nearly had .... its this passion thats kept us going .. and without it ... we are truly lost ....without it .. i am nothing .......................................

maybe the madman appears like a fool ... maybe he appears like a weakling .. maybe someone worships him and maybe someone even sheds a tear for him ...
but to himself he cares not what you think .. for his reward lies only in his creation ... in his inspiration .. his recurrent effort to proove true the love he was for you ... his inspiration ... seek him out while you can for you will never get a truer friend ... a more loyal friend ...

let him drown his emotions and hte madman is nothing ... he is a man witbhout a soul .. a nemesis worse than a ghost ..