Schizophrenic Poems, Short Stories, and Thoughts

Sing to me, oh night song
For your cries seem too distant still
We beg for your enigmatic crooning
The copulations of virtue trying to feel

Sing to me, oh night song
For your crisis isn’t a mistake
Falter from this pathway given
And see how much you can take

Sing to me, oh night song
Till the early morning sun
The tides of yesterday have gone
And we have yet to have all the fun

Nightingales singing enigmatic melodies
Unaware of the stains on our sleep
We dance to the tunes of their evening songs
Suffering the scars the rhythm keeps

Saints of tomorrow, we beg for…not promise
But only a song, yes sing to us a happy tune
Bring us the early summer eves and bonfires
The listless singing to guitars in mid June

And only than, dear saints will we consider
Your song, at a grand and bitter final close
Take your bow and throw your rose to the lady’s
And show off your brilliant and affirming pose