LUNATIC
He was a lunatic of many colors
He was a brother who held a heart stained with different shades of black
He was a son who loved depending on the day of the week
And at the end of it all he became nothing more than a charcoal soul that eventually lost vision of all colors and all days, all shades and all stains.
He was a lunatic whose trust had been shattered
He never trusted his mother or father with his heart
He never trusted his sister when she told him she loved him
He never trusted his therapist with a word
or his pharmacists with his pills
He never trusted his bankers with a dollar
or his social worker who fought for him when he was 14, 8 years ago from today
The colors painted his eyes blind and the cheated trust and deceitful lies stripped the lunatic of any faith he had left within himself.
He couldn't trust his 3AM shadows anymore
He couldn't trust his 5AM shut door
He couldn't trust himself as he held an unloaded gun
He couldn't trust a filled up bath on a sunday morning
He couldn't trust the memories of being a stepson
He couldn't trust his eyes not open or his voice unheard, quiet and unspoken
His 3AM shadows turned into people
and his 5AM shut door would slam open and shut telling him it was just the wind every time he'd seal it shut
and the unloaded gun would aim at his bloody target marking him dead
and his filled up bath would scrub his filthy memories clean
and his eyes would stay open, his voice always heard, and never unspoken
as he would mumble the alphabet backwards to keep himself sane
and speak his prayers with no vowels to eat away his pain
So in the morning he said hello to his 3AM shadows and fed off of his vowelless prayers after he'd sealed his 5AM shut door for the last time and unloaded the gun which he swore was unloaded and scrubbed his filthy memories clean and his clean memories filthy and kept his bloodshot eyes wide open and his voice always heard, and never unspoken as he mumbled the alphabet backwards still not insane and ate his late night dinner to feed off of his pain and as he head off to bed to tape his eyes wide open he said goodnight to his 3AM shadows only to see them again in the morning.
He was a lunatic of many colors
He was a brother who held a heart stained with different shades of black
He was a son who loved depending on the day of the week
And at the end of it all be became nothing more than a charcoal soul that eventually lost vision of all colors and all days, all shades and all stains.
He was a lunatic, but no lunatic is ever planted a nutty seed.
A seed fed poison instead of water to grow and darkness instead of sunlight to nourish is what makes a nutty seed.
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Lunatic
PoetryHe was a lunatic of many colors He was a brother who held a heart stained with different shades of black He was a son who loved depending on the day of the week And at the end of it all he became nothing more than a charcoal soul that eventually los...