Innocent Delirium

I'm appalled,

At the beauty and tragedy,

Of a great many things,

Unspoken and silenced.

Slipping from my consciousness,

There are, a great many things,

I can barely begin to understand,

Hidden and restricted.

The crying madman in the attic,

The sentimental fool in the rain,

The rational hermit in the study,

The hapless beggar in the drain.

I cannot comprehend them,

The irrevocable oaths,

Of those who promised lies,

And beat their chests like primates.

These are the litter of society,

The well-bred innards of class,

I'm but one who observes,

And agonizes their pitiful sweetness.

As rotten as wine,

As broken as a twig,

Like stepping into a puddle,

Where the cold water clings.

Can you not see their souls?

Through those blank windows,

Twins set in their masks,

The eyes of a liar.

Apalled, I am,

At this innocent delirium,

Sprung from wicked intentions,

Lost in the river of thoughts.

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Note: Yet another poem written in a great hurry. When my mind whirls, so does my muse.