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A lunatics Thoughts
long for the night
the thoughts
only get worse by the night.
night is the peak when our minds reach total isolation
when the most bizarre and horrific things seem to be the ones that only make sense
when thoughts become actions
with out a second thought
witout remorse or regret.
left with only frustration
in the early mornings
trying to understand why.
you look with such pathetic eyes
shooting questions without a break for breath
your looking for an apology
that you will never get.
I would ask you to stop trying
but I know it kills you inside
and its too fun to watch.
I am the monster who wants to see you die from a distance
yet i want your life in my hands
i have it in my hands
i want to crush it. destroy it with such a passion
it eats at me every night,
go and kill this soul.
An impulse to be misplaced and over thought in the coming mornings.
Looking though the eyes of a lunatic
this is the mind of The Thespian.
poem
by
Andrea Bencardino
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