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Mystic Psychosis

MYSTIC PSYCHOSIS

He was born free, and raised with warm hands
He lived in reality; with great goals and dreams
Then, with no rapt caution or forewarning,
Insanity drowned him whole in its thorny rivers

He was sane; his composure was in good health
Until the dreadful disease of old ate up his brains,
Pierced his consciousness hollow with a damning awl

And ushered his soul into a void of mystic psychosis
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Friday, August 12, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: madness
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Jayatissa K. Liyanage 12 August 2016

Unavoidable transitions in life, no one desires to experience, deal with or even feel about. Still, when it happens to a closer to heart one, how on earth you can avoid it? Very sensational. Thanks Patrick for sharing a daring experience.

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