My Madhouse

I was made to appear in a madhouse.

My father’s beard was as black
As the night of the last night,
His legs were nimble, his bellowing
Much more in time with suicide.

In some ways, it was a relish
To consume and offer
The eternal moments of pain
And suffering, the suicidal questions.

I dreamed of great insects,
Of my father in a suit of death;
My elegy shall provide the material
And finances for his burial.

Still let the search be on in these walls,
This madhouse appeared to be
A sanctuary for the distressed.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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