There is nothing lazy about the brain of a crazy.
Never stopping, always tipping, always tapping, quietness coming, start the flapping.
Now the hurry, quickening with the worry.
Did I do well? Did I do Right? A Light! Smother it with night.
Darkness engulfs, brewing and breeding my madness cult.
Now the pain; the thoughts; come to still me again.
Day to day; it’s always the same.
My brain; my madness; my pain.
Note — Poetry ain’t my thing
