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The Madness
In the early morning hours the madness reigns, creeping and
crawling through the boundary from death to life, between sleep
and shaky wakening.
During sunny optimistic morns when one's defenses are down,
it sizes up the toll time has taken on the withering soul. It
knows when the mind will weaken: today and the morrow.
Madness reigns when the best we have just isn't enough. When
we don't close the distance in our love of life, it partners
us - we end alone.
In quiet solitude, we hear our Vices beckoning whispers, "Join
us." Cataloged embarrassments, mistakes and past pain return
to taunt, "We're not through with you yet."
I scream, "I can't take any more." It responds, "Take
what?" Then all begins again like a bad dream without end.
When sadness never goes away, the morn and the even have no
meaning.
Then, I do the unspeakable, give up and join the dark dance.
Lost now, in the mad tango of poisoned words, smoke and mirror
mirage, I am one of them.
I always have - never realized it - been mad.
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