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Insanity

Maybe I am crazy;

maybe the things I think,

the things I feel,

aren't thought or felt by others.

Maybe I'm a different species,

an alien from a distant frame of mind.

Why do these walls close in on me?

why can't I hear myself scream?

Why do I find death to be a solace,

a hope when it all gets to be too much?

Why do I love people who never love me back?

When will I break?

When will I fall?

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Written by
nora-grace
Published
May 12, 2013
Lines·Words
13·83
Notes

As you can probably tell, this poem is kind of scattered and all over the place. I made it this way because it reminded me of the way a person's mind works; how we can think of something one second, and shift over to something else immediately after. I thought about what an insane person feels, whether or not they know or realize that they're insane, and if they do, when it will end.

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