A Series of Untitled Poems.


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4. 4.

There aren't many things
tying me to this world. 
My words, my family, 
but my sanity does not. 
They tell me that really
'We're all mad here', and yet
I have not achieved madness. 
For if we are all mad, 
does that mean no one is? 
To become detached
I must become mad, 
but in a world full of madmen
I am the sanest one of all. 

 

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