The Madman

Deep down I feel him simmering, the madman who is me;
he’s waiting for the time I let his howling madness free.
The world gets little glimpses of the other side of me,
that strange and wild-eyed demon I’m loathe to just set free.
I’d get lost in lifes jungle and swing from vine to vine
while howling at the moon each night – a common madness sign.
And so I live the life of me – sedate and dignified
until I reach my end of days – releasing what I hide.
For deep down we all hide him ‘the other’ who is us
and place a veneer of niceness so we don’t make a fuss.

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About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri
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