Manic Melancholia
Manic Melancholia
He flew high as a kite with no ceiling concealing his madness
A hawker plying his trade with all prayers lost preying on reason
Sold out flapping wings and the wind soaring no sores attached
No strings yet a puppet found but not lost scraping skies all in one
He struck the most delirious chords strangled the care of his mind
A hanged man falling a bruising garrotte noosed losing the plot then
The parachute opened on impact buried the mania deep under cover
Copyright © Kai Michael Neumann | Year Posted 2017
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