The Madman

The Madman

The Poets are wrong

Everyone's voice is of a humankind

Pain, hurt choking back

Even in death's dejection

They scrawl across the wall

I was here

I have been mad and unrepentant

They made me all things sour

Like the kiss that belongs to

unrequited love

I have now destroyed the past

I am a Poet without exemption

Tell me I am wrong

Eloquence grows on trees like leaves

Falling off a cliff