Midnight writings
A madman's thoughts
His demons are fighting
They turn and they toss
They spill the memories
The sad and the worse
His tears are shimmering
He burns with a curse
He uses a metal pen
To write his book
Every line thin
With hands that shook
No one ever looked
In fact it was never read
He kept writing his book
Until he was dead
YOU ARE READING
A Constant Poets Thoughts
PoesiaI am constantly thinking poetically and finding meaning in the menial. I figured letting others read how I think might give insight to the world behind our own. Enjoy.
