Prisoner of Sanity

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You there in the mirror
I choose to recognize you not

Imposters through the years
Mankind has seen many
Pretenders to the throne of reason
Clowning buffoons who've claimed
The divine madness of milady's love

Then what of your claim that you are me?

It weren’t my fingers
That mauled your visage bloody

I
With ice in my veins
Forbearance in my upbringing
Fear of all the gods and demons
--- of home, hearth and heaven in my heart!
Am too civilized
To lift my hand even upon myself.

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5 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousabout 20 years ago
This is what civilization does!

Yes. A double edged sword! It makes you aware there that there is more to life than kinde, kuche, kirche . . . and when you start discovering life, civilization strikes back with the compulsion to conformiity. Those who do not, they do, at least sometimes, wish to "maul their visages bloody."

amansamansabout 20 years ago
Indeed it is a prison . . .

and let's don't get caught in there. We'll just hang around at the gates and taunt the guards!

rwiterrwiterabout 20 years ago
Awesome power

Never has anyone from an older generation reached out to me so eloquently. Wish I had done this piece myself.

ApnaApnaabout 20 years ago
Surprising insight!

Painfully beautiful depiction of what this insiquitious world does to sensitive folk. A rare achievement . . . compact, hard hitting, yet compassionate! Super . . .!

AnonymousAnonymousabout 20 years ago
Insane Knowledge

The first and last stanzas of this poem speak directly to me. I love when someone knows: in the writing it shows.

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