Raging thoughts Ruminating in the vortex of my sanity Perflxed with the gnaw Of the people ranting like mad dogs And my every muted misery Has become an assylum i could always run to I cried. . I hate . . . I loathe . . Who shall i run to? Who shall heed to my call? Who shall offer an unwarranted cause? . . . to a puppet, who was never lost.