Where once there was a madman, all that stands is me
A figment of impossibility, by the twisted tree
I give you a shadow of myself to protect your fragile perception of standardised norms
To show anymore of a whole and the edge you walk would corrupt each step
Till all you know requires you to show a shadow of yourself, to protect other’s fragile perception….
Poison emotions and corrupted pens
Do so stain paper with twisted ink
And so in literary manner warp men’s souls