It's Always Me, Isn't It? I'm Not

In That Tremendous Flash Of Freedom, On My Way To Do The Thing For The First Time, Sanctioned By Almighty Harry, I Receded, Faded Back Into The Scenery Of My Own Dark Self, Whole The Other Me Crouched And Growled. I Would Do It At Last, Do What I Had Been Created To Do. And I Did.

Dying Makes Everyone Weaker, Subject To Painful Insight, And Not Always Insight Into Any Kind Of Special Truth - It's Just The Approaching End That Makes People Want To Believe They Are Seeing Something In The Line Of A Great Revelation.

I Had Become A Perfect Fake Human, Saying The Stupid And Pointless Things That Humans Say To Each Other All Day Long.

It Was Always Hard Work To Push Through A Crowed Of Reporters With The Scent Of Blood In Their Nostrils. You Might Not Think So, Since On Camera They Appear To Be Brain-damaged Wimps With Severe Eating Disorders. But Put Them At A Police Barricade And A Miraculous Thing Happens...the Strength Comes From Some Mysterious Place-and Somehow, When There Is Gore On The Ground, These Anorexic Creatures Can Push Their Way Through Anything. Without Mussing Their Hair, Too.

Could This Be The Apocalypse ?