Like a thief, you break through the backdoor of my skull and creep into my mind.
Alarms blare, thoughts awaken, and a struggle begins.
Consciousness slips my grasp; for the gun was aimed, and I had fired.
But what I did not know, this home was never mine, and you are no thief.
I am the robber whose thoughts were the weapon and words the bullets,
And an attempt to shoot you down, I fatally wounded me.
—O. D. M