The Morning After a Night of Mania
Like an artist with canvas, paint, and brush,
how then to illustrate (for you) in words
and in rhyme the throes of a bipolar rush?
For bookish and reserved, but manic, nerds
(like me), when I'm touched I'm inclined to gush
all over myself (for the pretty girls,
who'd blush like brides on their first wedding night;
as I flirtatiously finessed the twirls
of their sex-starved libidos with delight).
Yet the morn welcomed me with news of disgrace,
for I had acted the Lothario
with a Gorgon of a maiden:—whose face
was that of the Medusa's, the Gorgo!
To think, that I was so glad to escape:
seeing her with sober mind, I was agape!?
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