Tuesday, 21 March 2017

Me, Myself And I

I was whispering, muttering, generally chatting
About being well, lying and trying to putting
An end to the trend of wanting I on injections
Based on their unruly misconceptions
With their unfruitful perceptions;
But the reality of the matter was I was
Delirious, a grave state - deeply serious,
And I was paranoid and suspicious
Wrapped up in myself with delusions.

Now I am well, enjoying the fruits of life
With a possible common in law wife:
We can share laughter and plenty of fun
As we come and go and go and come
In a psychotic state of being well,
From a hardcore state of living in hell.

Copyright Andrew Stevenson 21/03/2017

A sonnet can sometimes have 9 lines in the octave.

Thank you. Love love, Andrew. Bye.

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