“When Madness Turns”
Often in rhyme the words stretch beyond reason,
As breath remains open for its constant season-
Matched words fall together, like ice and fire,
During repetitive motions along the edge to hire.
We’re made of conflicting ideas as virtue depends
Or burns according to light across those folded amends.
People sleep in less hearing of dreams,
Ghostly or windy, related under kinds for teams
Of thought- these sounds finish up another silence,
Particular above grounds wrestled upon towards reliance.
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