When she is deceased
and they discover the treasure-trove
of her cardboard-bound pages,
they will marvel at the complexity of her troubled thoughts
and romanticize her state.
They will put her in books.
They will serve her in classrooms.
They will glorify her genius and say
the affliction was common
with those of her kind.
They will, as usual, neglect to inquire
as to why she was spilling it all to paper,
or if a human ear would not suffice
was not available
was not appropriate
and what was wrong with the people around her
and are people like her born or driven crazy
and what does the driving or who or why
does the voice get more agitated as the poem progresses
They would rather analyze the punctuation of her sentences
to minute, unnecessary detail.