Insanity slips in slowly
Creating words of havoc
And thoughts of chaos
Violent shaking eyes
Reawakening lies
White bed sheets
And morphine lullabies.
Troubled minds create ponderous stories
Of octane and a matchstick's glory
It’s not bedtime yet
Just one more minute
To fight off the bad guy
But you promised sleep tonight.
Words stuck between your finger tips
Reveal insight before they’re lost in this
A casual line with a sip of wine
To sympathize, why are you laughing?
This man uses his mind as a weapon
Its better then standing unarmed
Cut the feed tube for one moment
Leave his body disarmed
Bullets rain freely from his ears.
Comments
-
thank you so much for stopping by and viewing my poem, The Preacher’s Song, I appreciate your taking the time. Your poem, “A Man Alone”, is, truly, very interesting. thank you for sharing your gift with us.
blessings and best wishes, astralshepherd
~r.
-
I liked this poem very much, and I can see you have good talent, congratulations on that. One thing, use punctuation at the end of every line, it helps break the poem up a little, and makes it easier to read! I hope to be reading more of your work soon, and keep up the good work!
All the best,
*Stephi*
Adding your comment:
