poem

For those who dreamed and those who seemed to be there in the way,
that tugged aside from public hide
and breathe indoors all day
Who deam to be for public need not meet fraternity
and bleed in colours day and night for so it is to be.
For colors fly within the brain and painful equities.
I mind forboden to it’s space to rest within this confined cage
that existance proved to say was laced with silver cutlery.
Keep from whaling solid mind for all the walls and tragic doors,
they too be cast aside, but alas and nay such hollow pain
for what they cure must have a name and so you’re

Qualified Insane