The Poet’s Madness

In the depths of night, alone he writes
His pen, a sword, his mind, in flight
But in his thoughts, a shadow creeps
A madness that never sleeps

The words he writes, they twist and turn
His mind, a fire that cannot burn
In every line, a touch of pain
A sorrow that cannot be tamed

His words once flowed, like a gentle stream
Now they scream, like a haunting dream
His mind, a maze, a twisted path
A journey that will never last

The poet’s madness, it takes control
A darkness that swallows his soul
His words, a poison, a deadly brew
A madness that only he knew

His mind, a prison, he cannot escape
A darkness that cannot be shaped
He writes and writes, until the end
A madness that he cannot fend

The world may see, a poet’s art
But in his mind, a raging heart
A madness that never fades away
A price he must forever pay

So let his words, be a warning tale
A poet’s mind, a fragile veil
For in the depths of his despair
His madness, a permanent snare.

:: 02.23.2023 ::

About EPRobles

Writer, Artist. I like to paint abstract acrylic images onto canvas. I love to read everything, and I especially enjoy science, philosophy, and the arts. I'm new to the blog experience and I very much enjoy it! I hope to learn as much about all the features that WordPress offers and thank you -- my visitor -- for taking time to read my words. Peace and love... View all posts by EPRobles

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