Oh what a malady
Hunted by fools
Morality chained by strangers
Infatuated with a noose
Oh what to give for an opportunity to choose
But those experienced in these things, say it's no use
A boost I could use
My madness a malady
I could cure if I so choose
Deny my pain, an errand of fools
My closest fears I'll take a noose
I'm far too shy to expose my rotted self to strangers
My dreams soon feasted on by strangers
Perhaps for them, they'll find a use
Restless stalking, a wolf in a noose
Free milady from her malady
What did I trade for this gold of fools?
Was I aware and did I even choose?
Poison seems an opportune thing to choose
But to this choice I'm no stranger
Those who emerge know it's the choice of fools
Eternal illness, no cure no use
Pray you never treat yourself to such a malady!
Though I'd pick neither, preferable's the noose.
Enough blather about the noose
Blurred brain believes it my only choice to choose
It's not mine but their malady
I refuse to be swayed by strangers
Whose souls are made of refuse
Why attach myself to the poison that comes from fools?
Nobody judges themselves greater than fools
Who shout out their dogma, then cling to the noose
So many better ways to put their time to use
Perhaps weak minds lack the capacity to choose
To their own souls they are a stranger
Insufferable idiocy a rampant malady
These fools, they are a malady
Strangers who think they can handle a noose
While I still hold it's no use, someone should tell them they can still choose
YOU ARE READING
Disintegration of the Muse
PoetryTrying to show my more serious side I suppose. I've written many poems over the years, thought it would be fun to share.
