Requiem of Madness
He stands by the windowPeering outside
Through a small hole
Made by him
Watching, waiting..contemplating
Pulling at his hair
Shaky, liver-spotted hands
And dirty fingernails
Hearing the roots rip out
He screams in laughter
Voices are haunting him
Telling him to do the most
Absurd things
Paint all of your walls
Midnight Blue
Carve rainbows
Into your kitchen floor
Throw your plates
Against that old,
Antique birdcage
( the bird left long ago)
And he does all this
With glee
Not feeling
The madness
Taking it's toll
A faint song can be heard
( if you dare stand close enough)
Eminating from his mind..
His very soul
I think it might be Beethoven's 9th
The maestro plays on
Poetry by Teala
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Written on 2007-01-12 at 01:23
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