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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2199947
Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #2199947
A night at the asylum.
In verdant woods,
Tall trees I climb
But nothing aids
My ailing mind.

One room.
Two beds.
Another's voice
Inside my head.
Three roads,
Four ways.
I'm blinded by
The Solar rays.

My times of joy,
I've left behind.
Will nothing help
This madman's mind?

Five stars.
Six cups.
A crimson hue
Stains my foul touch.
Seven souls.
Eight-balls.
A promise not
To leave these halls.

On earthen fields,
I'm running wild
Yet nothing heals
A ravaged mind.
© Copyright 2019 J.J. Netzach (jjnetzach at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2199947