Topic: Madness

I Am

I am—yet what I am none cares or knows; My friends forsake me like a memory lost: I am the self-consumer of my woes— They rise and vanish in oblivious host, Like shadows in love’s frenzied stifled throes And yet I am, and live—like vapours tossedInto the nothingness of scorn...

By John Clare
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31 December

Madness

(For Sara Teasdale)The lonely farm, the crowded street, The palace and the slum, Give welcome to my silent feet As, bearing gifts, I come.Last night a beggar crouched alone, A ragged helpless thing; I set him on a moonbeam throne -- Today he is a king.Last night a king in orb...

By Joyce Kilmer
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15 December

Anna Who Was Mad

Anna who was mad, I have a knife in my armpit. When I stand on tiptoe I tap out messages. Am I some sort of infection? Did I make you go insane? Did I make the sounds go sour? Did I tell you to climb out the window? Forgive. Forgive. Say not I...

By Anne Sexton
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03 December