All philosophers true to the study will go mad some day.
But then again, it is Normal that defines Mad.

The crescent

Early morning, I come out
From in between the sheets
And walk to the glass so stout
And look

I see what I see
A golden crescent against the pale
A thin curve standing out
And wisps of black brought by the gale

A smile creeps, my mind does sing
“Oh, I love my new nose ring” 

:p Thought I'd just do a nonsense poem. Cheers ;)



:p again i guess