The Mad Years
Years ago my first wife had left me for another man
I was crazy by jealousy she in another man's arms
intolerable.
A ghost walking through town in a haze of whisky
a meltdown caused by dishonest self-importance.
I didn't see how pathetic I was trying to end myself
on the Altar of love, I wallowed in the victimhood.
The bank took the house my mother took me in told
me to grow up. Sleeping on a sofa and no privacy
sharpens the mind to be constructive like working for
living. Slowly I was able to forget and let go, my
overreaction was of hurt my self-esteem had taken
a beating; she left me. My sister had a summer cabin
by the sea in a fjord, she let me stay there dry as  
a preacher- until feeling better. I did but got a phobia
could no leave, alone, yet safe from the world I could
think and stay here forever
I shrink handed me ****** held my hand as we walked
down the track to his car, it was white with red letters
I didn't mind full of pills I was safe, now I think it sure
was tough growing up