Confession of a troubled man

This man I know frightful weird,
Covers his face with a dark coarse beard,
Spends no money on whiskey or beer,
But prefers to cherish what he holds dear.

This man I know is actually two,
The one you see, and the one I do,
They roam all day on the prowl,
The face of one, for the other-a cowl,

This man I know, is in fact me,
In this body we are three,
Unlike the Lord we’re not pure,
Alters ego, persons ality, the third unsure.

But I'm scared of it, I’m scared of it all,
People think I’m prepared for the fall,
If only they knew, if they knew inside,
How close its come,suicide.