Beaten by the years passing us by
no one really knows who they are
except for the mad man
sitting alone in the darkness
of a small room facing the wall,
penning poesy
beneath a dingy light
throwing his shadow
upon filthy blinds;
framing insanity.
no one really knows who they are
except for the mad man
sitting alone in the darkness
of a small room facing the wall,
penning poesy
beneath a dingy light
throwing his shadow
upon filthy blinds;
framing insanity.