Last Stop Fourth Floor
The first floor is plush, velvety thoughts
the mastering of emotions
a handmade boat
with even keel.
The crazies arrive
testing mettle
starting fires
breaking stained glass
of peace and sanity.
When things get overheated
they retreat to the upper floors.
One anarchist steps ahead of the flames.
Where the blue devil awaits.
They've taken the bait.
Flames burning hand from the reins.
A regression of emotions:
Straitjackets and electroshock therapy - the norm.
Where the eyeless elevator man barks:
"Last stop -fourth floor".
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.