The Poet Who Lost His Mind
‘All great things, must come to an end’
he said at the end of his time
Though he had a distinct love for words
The things he chose to keep inside,
is precisely what stole his mind
It was not what he’d said,
It was not what he did
The words were left unspoken,
things he wanted to keep hid
You see, he felt ashamed,
embarrassed of what once was
Albeit the world had it’s claws,
In his mind, he still had his maus
He only wrote their stories
Telling their sees and their saws
Never mentioning his journey
Where he’s been or who he was
He never revealed his true face
Never breached the depths of his soul
He left his secrets where no one would find them
at the bottom of a deep black hole
As he’s reaching his final step
His mind has lost it’s wonder
His tick is losing it’s tock
He stands now staring
in great wonder
at this new shining light
death is not the end of the line
for a poet who’s simply lost his mind
~Introverted Sage
22.2022.10
