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Madness
By the break of light—yesterday’s time spent in the city
with you was still today’s ecstasy—light shone brusquely
at scattered angles onto these blue plaid pajamas, while
all I could think of was you. “Stupid,” mother would have
said. “It’s fine, though, since you’re still young.”
Until the final memories of dawn, I waited for your responses,
I stalked your past, hoping they had passed.
What would it mean to you for a failure to happen to me?
Why would you care so much about her when lying was her only sight?
Stop looking at me, you disgust me.
I barely know you. What makes you so distasteful towards me?
[Stormy] - [Clouds] - [Ruminating] - [High] - {and} - [Low]
[Deleting] - [My] - [Wishes] - {so} - [I] - [Fail] - {and} - [Fall].
Spite me. Hate me. Why don’t you pick up those rocks by your
feet and nail me in the forehead, by the temples?
Jokingly, I made you mine. I wanted to see you suffer.
Why would I say that?
Did you really mean that?
What’s driving you so mad?
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I wrote "Madness" as a tribute to bipolar disorder, which some of my loved ones are affected by.