Encephalitis
By
Tom Grier
The madman, inside the madman, inside the man, that everyone sees.
If only they knew, that madman is me.
A prisoner of thought, not action nor deed.
No wounds on the outside, but on the inside he bleeds.
Sanity needed to fight for his mind,
All others oblivious, all others blind.
Memories flash as his mind melts away,
No darkness nor silence, at the end of his day.
Ears all a buzz with sounds that won't end,
Sleep is a time for these things to mend,
But sleep is a lie! The mind is a blaze.
A wandering eye with a fixed gaze.
Nights are nightmares, yet I do not dream.
Uncontrolled thoughts are not as benign as they seem.
Judge me not for what I've become,
The whole of these parts do not equal the sum.
Life is a collection of memory and thought,
My life is diminished by what I've forgot.
I think therefore I am.
I remember therefore I will be.
If I can't remember today,
Gone is a part of me.
Thomas M. Grier Duluth MN