The poor thing got
lost in the escape.
And she was still hungover
from the childhood terror.
Her personality was
ruined--redolent with
the first flowers of
madness.
She made a pretend
world, full of delusions.
A house of cards that
was laden with
lunacy, her insanity
became safe and dependent
on her never taking
responsibility for her
actions--she was a
pawn for the adage,
Hurt people Hurt people,
like Blanche from
A Streetcar Named Desire,
and
Don Quixote,
Her world crumbled and she climbed
into the abyss,
when she looked
deeply into the
mirror of reality.
-
Author:
Thomas W Case (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 22nd, 2024 13:14
- Comment from author about the poem: Here's a link to my new limited edition ebook, Rise Up Collected Poems and Short Stories. https://booksie.chainletter.io/i/thomaswcase888
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 56
- Users favorite of this poem: Lorenz, sunshine777
Offline)
Comments9
Great write
Thanks.
You're welcome
Wow! 😮
Powerful and poignant penning,
hauntingly vivid imagery!! 👍
Awesome presentation,
golden to me!! 🥇
Thanks for sharing much enjoyed...
Best regards ✌️ peace. Thad
Thanks, Thad.
Good emotive words Thomas.
Andy
Thank you.
Jeez brother, for a moment I feared I was back in the office .. but my write hemisphere convinced me it really is still Saturday .. A fine if not tragic post today Thomas .. Neville
Thank you, my friend.
A very interesting case, TWC, makes one wonder about the backstory, should there be one. 👍🏻
Thanks.
A sad picture of the reality of madness. Well crafted with great images and a pointed message.
Thank you.
Just gotta say, your poems are phenomenal. What’s a piece of advice you’d give someone to become a better writer?
Thank you. Write from the very marrow of your bones.
So real I felt this deeply
Thank you so much.
brilliant!
Thanks, brother.
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