The Madman

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The madman in his madness,
decided to write his address.
He said he was a child of God,
With the devil inside his head.

He thought for long and hung his head
no shame for left to grieve.
The tears roll down unwashed face,
destination that they seek.

Lonesome is his walk
down the path less taken.
No one comforts the one,
from whom god has stolen.

A rose he saw withering,
he pressed it to his heart.
With a gasp he felt the pain,
heart's blood drawn by a thorn.

No one wants the madman,
they keep their distance far.
No penitence for the sinned,
with the rot within their hearts.

The pretty girls don't smile,
laughter dies on feeble wing.
Silence more than accusation,
haunts his raving thoughts.

The madman in his madness,
sleeps in the darkness black.
Only the devil calls those those,
on whom god turns his back.

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