His eyes burn and throb.
If only to close them,
It would all go away.
The thoughts won't allow him.
...
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A united fate. Indeed their is a dream with each stroke he takes. The psychology behind his motive if it is insane the way he writes. Then it is of insanity of I wish do the same. When we love, we must continue even when as if we have nothing left. A tired passion is not desperate, but instead persistent. A heart will thunder of butterfly kisses even when the eyes are closed. And I prefer a fantasy over reality because it is only as horrible as you make it.
There's a fine line between insanity and the clearest sanity. I enjoyed the insights in this poem. Best wishes.
the same way that there is a thin line between love and hate there is also a thin line between sanity and insanity. who is to say what is sane and what is not, when there is so much that we've forgot. a beautiful write!