here's another poem.... kinda old tho

The Madman

Feeling so old and so alone he just sits there, ever gazing out his window
Unloved and bitter, twisted thoughts of anger and violence race within his mind
As his mind replays the loss of his wife, the death of his children
Knowing he remains unwanted, uncared for, just a social disease

Within the recessess of his mind he entertains such dangerous and violent fancies
In the night he finds comfort and solace in his evil and demented plans
Conumed by an hatred of life, his thirst for destruction remains unquenched
With a wild, infalmed passion he vows revenge on his enemies, even to his death

Controled by anger, which is further fueled by his ever drunken state
Letting his tongue become loosened, he proclaims his plan with utter abandon
Foolishly leavibg himself openand vunerable, he tempts his own fate
His vicarious existance is just one of his many flaws and mistakes

As both friend and foe gather faithfully around him
They listen in blind and mindless agreement to his unending tales of woe
Thier ignorance serve to convince him of his rightness, bringing him further down
They will never mourn his death, nor care when he lies buried beneath the ground

Still, knowing this he carries on with his murderous and malicious plans
Knowing in full that he has sealed his fate, and dug his own grave
For his plans were never solid, they contained no true for or fashion
As he continues to be a slave to his mental torment and emtional madness

date: Tuesday, November 9, 2004
by: D. Grant Renshaw