Insanity Revisited
Memories hunker behind
a door marked “Blessed Oblivion”.
The key is under the mat.
To choose one, open and peek
inside would be
a foolish flagellation.
Secrets simmer in cannibal pots,
lids held down by tenuous fingers.
Some truths deserve to be buried.
Some memories must be held
as closed as a spinster’s knees.
Doors opened less than judiciously
trigger popping puppets that scream.
A mind is only as strong
as its most heinous memory.
Some minds are olios, badly stirred,
their orts floating in a brine of insanity
that needs a pinch of salt.
Reality paints itself as a circus clown,
and changes the rules of life
without warning...
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
