A fever: A poem 

Posted bymontecyrilPosted inUncategorized

The fever is cured 

But I’m not healed 

To feel impure  

Is the devil’s deal 

The act of cleansing  

Is superficially thin 

No amount of rinsing 

Washes off a sin 

The call of duty was a fire 

But my own will began to tire 

I have nails on my limbs 

From shattering many dreams 

But the rock caved from the wind’s friction 

Not because of a want of passion 

In the darkest hour to lose vision 

The crime was in aborting the mission 

Published by montecyril

Hi, I am Monte Cyril Rodrigues and live in Melbourne, Australia. I am a retired journalist. I have been diagnosed with schizophrenia. I've had voices and visions all my life. I think it is a spiritual experience, my doctors think otherwise. I am a deeply spiritual person and keep having experiences with otherworldly realms.

One thought on “A fever: A poem ”

  1. Monte – what was this item about . Is it based on your personal experience. Feeling sad readinf this . But it’s beautifully written as usual

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