World Poetry Day.

There is nothing lazy about the brain of a crazy.

Never stopping, always tipping, always tapping, quietness coming, start the flapping.

Now the hurry, quickening with the worry.

Did I do well? Did I do Right? A Light! Smother it with night.

Darkness engulfs, brewing and breeding my madness cult.

Now the pain; the thoughts; come to still me again. 

Day to day; it’s always the same.

My brain; my madness; my pain. 

Note – Poetry ain’t my thing

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