A Series of Untitled Poems.


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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