- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Metaphor
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When I worked in the asylum
I know they call it “the crazy house”
We had one just like him
Smart as hell
Crazy as a mad hatter
Wrote poetry with obscure references
We had no idea what he was saying
I found him under a pile of blankets
He’d slit his wrists
We rushed him to the ER
When they transfused him
He went into convulsions
Wrong blood!
He died that night
An error in a logbook
No one cared
They hushed it up
I took his sheaths of poems,
"Metaphor"
Such brilliance
Such confusion
Such a waste!
- COMMENTS
HarryHillover 10 years agoslightly different changes them both, one seems to be lamenting the individual the other the quality of the work he spent his time compiling.
erectus123over 10 years agoAuthortwo copies with different titles on same word processing page, only one showed in submit box, my error
