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Poem: Madness

The vile potion of madness struck her like a lightening bolt gone astray. For what are we more than but a misty cloud roaming the night sky in the search for a shining star to give us the light and hope we are forever searching for. She walks the streets alone, every stride, every tiring step, in the hope of a sunny day in her foggy mind. Don’t fear the absence of her mind, for it is not gone, it is still there, and she is still here, she is but just figuring out why the trees blow and the flowers die in hope that one day the winds will be still and the flowers will blossom. And that day will come, one day; I promise you that day will come. 

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Sometimes the emotion is so profound that words are inadequate. I like what Robert Frost said: "Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words. Robert Frost

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