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Wild Winds Are Howling, And I Remember Every Single Day When I Was A Child Soldier With No Guts, Whose Blood Mixed With Thunder; It's A Long Way From Here, Wild Winds No Longer Howl, And My Is Blood Is Now Mixed With Passion, Thunder And Creative Passion; I Am A Child Soldier Set Free!

from Wild Winds Are Howling Like Hungry Coyotes, And I Remember Every Single Day When I Was A Child Soldier With No Guts, Whose Blood Mixed With Thunder; It's A Long Way From Here, Wild Winds No Longer Howl, And My Blood Is Now Mixed With Passion, Passion And Life; I Am A Child Soldier Set Free! by Wings Of An Angel

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Wings Of An Angel Israel

My own identity feels like a construct, a collection of roles and personas worn like so many masks. Who am I, really?

Perhaps in the end, we are all just characters in someone else's novel, puppets dancing on strings we cannot see.
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