The Growing Madness

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
It only gets worse every year.

Submitted: December 09, 2015

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Submitted: December 09, 2015

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The cord dazzles as it’s wrapped around my neck.

A multitude of colour to admire as my vision fades.

Flesh is stripped from bone.

Crimson pools and streams a fresh river onto the ground.

I have lost another finger to this madness.

Manic shouts and impassioned screams flood my mind.

The angry words and hateful tongues will be the last sounds heard.

I cannot stop this insanity, I can only fall victim to it for love of family and friends.

I dared to venture to this asylum in hopes of procuring happiness for a future day.

Soon I will be a mangled corpse in its halls,

trampled and kicked – an inconvenience to the lunatics with no time.

I am just another victim no one cares to see.

Is this not what the holidays are meant to be about?


© Copyright 2020 Jeff Bezaire. All rights reserved.

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