Summit Of Madness Poem by Ailbhe Eighteen

She had come to hear
Lyre so terrible of critical beats
no sweet melody
nor soft rhythm to soothe her plea
sour soul, bitter facade
she had come to the summit of madness.

Uprooted from the comfort east
Beneath the dead tree, she now succumb
This woman is now is mute
Coldly torn and scarcely known
She had come to the summit of madness.

Her brow is of ugly past
Evenings to her is the worst disturbance
Darkness scorched her hair
And oh I behold
Her eyes precarious, stormy
She had come to the summit of madness.

Dark flashback wrung her neck
Mighty fire set ablaze
Menace of days, wooing
Destructive Hades, alluring she
She had come to the summit of madness.