Strict rules, no spirals
The old man was yelling,
Skin almost sallow
I heard yesterday he shat in a chair
“Give me back my notebook”
In a strange way, I empathized
With this smelly, sallow man
My composition notebook never left my side
“My notebook!”
“It’s spiral” explain the nurses
I wonder what was in the notebook
To make it so dear
Lunatic ramblings or a hint of genius?
What would someone say of mine?
He was still standing by the nurse’s station
Four hours later when I went to bed
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