The walls of Bedlam are dark
if I were a stray cat
I would not be welcome there
It is true I was mad once
I was let inside only to be captured
by stiff jackets
there was no mercy
there were no handshakes

Then I met you at the college
Years later
Your name was Laura
We made plans to send students
on buses to the Occupy Movement
You had a beautifiul mouth
that had a way
of owning the universe

My friend, you could count them all
the pained expressions of their tents
the hazzah of the battle
I thought for one morning
we could love each other forever

But then the walls of Bedlam
they intervened
they crossed our faces
and with their crude but solid mass
they wound their special way
to destroy us

There is no splendour in the grass
there are no apples left on the cart
the walls of Bedlam they are dark
they do burn my limbs for a lifetime

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