Insane

There was a man,
Whom few knew of his name,
He spoke rather hoarsely,
And rebelliously often in vain.

His strut was purposeless,
His nose was crooked,
His lips all cracked and bloody,
Yet his eyes revealed no pain.

He felt no need to try in school,
Everything seemed rather bland,
He didn’t care much for music,
They knew his pride had been slain.

Once again they saw him,
His eyes were crimson and bloodshot,
His hair all in a tuffle,
No sound departed from the curve of his lips,
His mind all a muffle,

Unconscientiously debating,
Slowly dying, manipulating,
All the thoughts he once thought were happy ones,
Turned out to be all but a lie,
Now, in pain, he just wanted to die,

In the midst of his own self-hate,
With no time to value and to contemplate,
The man revved up the engine,
Taking his own life could be vengeance,
Against those that never really seemed to care,
Always by, but never really there,

With one last thought of life,
The man pleaded to end the inner strife,
He took in a deep breath and let out a sigh,
He said, “God, let me be, please, I just want to die.”

In time his heart began to fail,
He drew into a deep sleep,
His cheeks flushed,
His sweater like a veil,

Unironically,
One person had known all along,
That this man had gone insane,
And something was definitely wrong,
His father had beaten him as a child,
And when his mother had died,
People knew he seldom smiled,

This person rushed in,
Heartbroken and dazed,
‘What made him do it?,
Why was he crazed?’

They rushed him to the hospital,
Hoping for the better,
He knew she wanted to stay,
But the doctor wouldn’t let her,

She knew all along,
She went through with it,
She could have been strong,
I guess that’s why they say,

Two wrongs don’t make a right,
And here, tonight,
Through the pity and in the sorrow,
This woman must fight,
For the rest of her tomorrows,

Knowing she could have stopped it,
She could have tried,
It was partly her fault,
That young Toby had died.

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About humblefoot

Kyle Fisher (who often uses the alias Logan Rowley online and in his writing) has been enjoying writing since he was just 8 years old. His first formal publication was at the age of 13. He is now a spiritualist and openly queer author, perpetually searching for inspiration to create and learn more about the world around him. He is always drawn to the simplicity and uniqueness that life has to offer. He doesn’t identify with labels or socially constructed ideas about how the world should be. He believes that the world is your oyster, and that we all project our own destinies with the thoughts we choose to harbour about the universe. He is an idealistic, spiritualistic hippie who is just trying to find his place in this world, crafting each word to leave his mark, and promote love and equality among all people.
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