Poem: Notes Towards The Sickness

By: Andrew Openshaw

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Beyond the realm of the insane
Lies a place for those who
Wait.
A fated chasm, behind the
Eyes, where burning fires radiate.
It is there the wheel of thought
Transcends, life’s objective view
Stops and ends — for here,
Here lives sub-conscious ill, intrinsic
Sickness of the multitude.
Still, and secret until, the
Mind’s switch finally clicks and
Behold,
The depraved depths of the human
Soul are told.

 

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