Email Poem

Your IP Address: 216.73.216.110

Your Email Address:

To Email Address:

Subject

Personal Note:

Poem Title:

Poem

I never said I was sane. I didn’t claim perfection no, I lean more towards distain. Compare, internalize, never share. Crazy, imperfect thoughts run everywhere but never straight. They don’t play the sane part long enough to call fun, so I can enjoy a day without feeling emotionally imprisoned. Sanity is not a noun that one would imply when describing me if I’m not around. It’s an illusion I sometimes like to create and play out. Who in this world has all their screws tightened from their making, until now. I feel like almost everyone is haunted by their day when the night begins, the sun goes down and sins creep in.  Watching all your skeletons re-grow skin and walk right out of your "sane closet", again and again. Only angels can sleep in peace, they are the ones who in our darkest hour we call on for clarity and ease. Sane; so they are rewarded rest and sleep. Sometimes, I wish I was an angel who felt silence when my lids would meet. But until sanity is obtained, a sleep order is arranged. Many imperfect nights with no peace in sight are where I pray my sleep will not be sacrificed. Realizing that Sanity can’t be reached in any lifetime,  even if you professed all your sins and gave up your human greed every night.  It’s always going to be this mirage you will never meet, but surely think you see. As Sanity, is the greatest illusion man-made that will forever haunt me.

CAPTCHA Preview

Type the characters you see in the picture

Required