Blahsphemy

The sweat sizzled on his skin. It felt as if the planet was on fire. This too shall pass. He reached out for the AC remote. He withdrew his hand as if stung by a scorpion. The remote had melted. I am on the seventh sun of the Marshy Way galaxy, he remembered with a shudder.    

The smile was there, but he was asleep. I didn't want to wake him up. I swiftly pulled out my trusted Walther and squeezed the trigger.

I am not what you see in the mirror I am not my FB profile I am not the car I drive I am not the clothes I wear I am not the books I read I am not the son you think I am I am not what you see I am not what I am  That's the only thing I am sure of.  

The arena was deserted. The corpses were lying in a heap. The smell of death and decay was everywhere. Somewhere in the horizon a meek sun was trying hard to escape the dark clouds. The gladiator was busy sharpening his sword. It was business as usual for him. 

Here I am, lost in other people's lives.  Their updates, photos and vacations. Peeking like a voyeur  Through windows left open for me. 

I was always black I can't sing for my life I can never be a pet  I am the dear departed's soul I am a dirty scavenger I am unlucky for some  Some say I am crooked  Some say I am clever as well I am just a bird The one that crows