Longing For Favour Poem by Jeremy Horsford

The theatre of madness besieges me.

Suffocating me with the methodical madness of
the mind beating against absurdity. But some how
it makes sense.

Of sound mind may disagree. Of sound mind's gaze
of favour has overlooked this once appetising
fruit.

Although unpicked, this fruit has fallen from
grace. Left to rot with society's undesirables.

The undesirables deserve not to be lowered. As my
presence enhances the disgust amongst the elite.

But then again, why not accept differing
opinions? However, why accept what is yet to
offer sense?

The belief of the dim-minded is astonishing. Am I
to remain disavowed by such ill imaginative
cretins?

Is my last breath sentenced to such unfortunate
circumstances? Or will favour cast it's eye over
this weary carcass once more?