a poem called maddening

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
na.

Submitted: April 05, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: April 05, 2012

A A A

A A A


it begins with the red card

found in the hands of that same being

staring back from the mirrored image &

there lies the rub,

for to look right or left,

to leave the room,

to try & sleep forever,

brings no peace---

the maddening of the mind has already been set forth

in

motion---

as questions upon questions

pile up like the foulest garbage in a landfill,

what becomes of the thinker is a mass of

unrest---

stirrings outdo themselves when

the maddening increases &

sooner than later it becomes harder to distract oneself

from

more impending inquiries,

from further investigations promulgated by

multiplying selves

who are all up to no good---

on the outside

the attempt to keep it all in check

begins to dwindle as well &

even something so simple as eating a muffin at the

café

becomes something of the greatest struggle,

because the self will not allow its own

inquisition

to

cease &

nothing but destruction lies ahead.


© Copyright 2020 delapruch. All rights reserved.

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