A poem of identity

A poem of identity: The fear within a man can have the same voice as his heart, so weak and so fragile the two cannot be told apart, for his fear and his hate will form a second soul, while destroying the first will seem to be the goal. I assure it’s not human, for it cannot fake what we feel, yet it can draw the curtain between what's false and what’s real. For this second soul will bestow him all of his dreams, and lull him to sleep away from life’s themes, but that copy of a soul can’t be trusted with his life, for it will only immobilize and usher him and his knife. So hold close that second soul, suffocate it if you must, for you must kill its very essence, and never lend it your trust.