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The line between madness,
The line between normality,
The price to pay for loneliness;
I ought to pay with sincerity.

In a world of madness,
The normal are insane,
The right are arcane,
And the abused are ridiculed by sadness.
I ought these days to go aflame,
For now, my madness, needs no blame.
There is no notes to be.
A life of many,
A life of not.
To know any,
To know rot.
I have seen,
for what I have not.
I have done to know,
That I cannot.
Escape my rage,
For I have wrot,
Is my own cage.
A nightmare,
That I broken.
A sage of mirrors,
For I have sought.
No reflection,
No dedication,
Anything I have knot.
Everything is futile,
For it is eternally mine.
I had some musings of a circle and entrapment, to live like one’s died, so I wrote this poem.
To see it, defines what it cannot,
It brings itself for what is not.
It has knotted its way from futility.
Now it is reality.
From henceforth, you know not,
To see it defies its knot.
I pondered on how the mundane can create absurdity. So, the goal of this poem was to show the existence from the mundane can create absurdity. Though subtle, it is such an anomaly to see, as it is reality.

— The End —