There was
no madness…
Yet some call
us lovers
“mad”…
Love can
drive you up
your own walls
and ceilings.
Left roped
and hung
by your own
broken heart
strings—
Sometimes,
Love leaves
the lonely—
Mad Lovers,
behind for
dead…
A line I read from a book I've been reading for english class called Circe by Madeline Miller. I thought of writing a poem.