"peace, the storm of thoughts,
echos though the prison...
that is my mind, festering,
to bubble and boil,
rheum and gloom, to
poison thoughts that should be sane..
to feed doubt and encourage fear...
turn people who are far to near...
to vent my thoughts in writing here,
is peace for a time, silence is near..
however thoughts when vented do remain,
and people see and think the same,
as i do...that thoughts such,
as echod from my mind seems such as madness?
alexander knew. socrates knew.
to write is to acheive...something.
but to loose something else....
which is the greater loss?
and which the greater gain?"
|
Submission Name: untitled
