Saturday, February 26, 2011

In Madness, There Lies a Method

At first I could not be convinced.
Confirmation was withheld me;
Indeed, in time, I found deep doubt--
What man can claim it otherwise?
And did I cry, without comfort
Or bravely stand, associate
Myself with those I left unsaved,
The ones who slid into the depths,
With my name borne on dying breaths?
Remorse, that icy wire, runs,
Transforming joy to energy,
Burning bits, absurdly broken,
Beautiful on scorchéd limbs,
Far flung for some, but not for him.
And if it makes no sense, I guess,
It's fitting for a coded world,
Where honest keys are hard to find,
And lying locks are jealous guards.

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