The Poet Who Lost His Mind

‘All great things, must come to an end’ he said at the end of his time.
Though he had a distinct
love for words
The things he chose to keep inside,
is precisely what stole his mind.
It was not what he’d said,
it was not what he did.
The words were left unspoken,
things he wanted to keep hid.
You see, he felt ashamed,
embarrassed of what once was.
Albeit the world had it’s claws,
In his mind, he still had his maus.
He only wrote their stories
Telling their sees and their saws.

Never mentioning his journey
Where he’s been or who he was.
He never revealed his true face
Never breached
the depths of his soul.
He left his secrets
where no one would find them.
At the bottom of a deep black hole.
As he’s reaching his final stop
His mind has lost it’s wonder
His tick is losing it’s tock.
He stands now staring
in great wonder
at this new shining light
death is not the end of the line
For a poet who’s simply lost his mind.

~Introverted Sage~