I once wrote a woman
a letter
penned in my own blood
but I had disposed of it
before I could mail it
in fear that she would
think me mad
and rightfully so
because it seems the
only creatures
that would truly understand
passion
these days
are the ones that stagger
across the common room
of any given nuthouse
as I stagger across
the impossible realm
of every day.
A Letter in Blood From the Heart of a Madman
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