A/N: This is just a random idea I had when I was on the way home on the bus this afternoon. I left my books at home, so I was just staring out of the window and thinking. While looking at trees, I was struck with the idea that they could be made of sharp glass-shards, perhaps even mirrors, while looking skeletal and cold. Of course, this idea was then followed by the question of where such trees would reside, and I was provided with an answer: the land of insanity. So, this is basically just a piece of poetry about how insanity might be. (I wouldn't know, seeing as how I'm sane and all... Supposedly.

---

Blankly staring eyes
-Don’t look don’t look can’t look NO-
Focused on the ruddy mud,
Avoiding the skeletal mirror-trees of memories that
Stab the churning, black clouds of the sky with their high reaching branches of glass-shards.

But for a glint of glass,
The eyes betray
-NO NO NO DON’T CAN’T LOOK STOP!-
Their owner.

A swirling, rushing memory
-taunting shame screaming pain THE PAIN-
Chaotic emotion
-Oh no no no
STOP IT STOP IT LET ME BE JUST MAKE IT STOP!-

Freed, shaking, gasping
-It’s over watch out could happen again DO NOT LOOK-
Wide, shocked eyes mistakenly wandering
-NO NO NO FOCUS LISTEN DON’T-

And then the reflection.

Pale, skeletal,
-like the trees the trees the horrible trees-
Cold, shaking, utterly corpselike,
-I should be dead why aren’t I dead why can’t I DIE-

Blissful blackness,
Hollow, trembling hands covering wide eyes
-It’s gone gone gone doesn’t matter don’t think it’s okay now-

But the sanctuary is soon invaded,
Memories worming through eyelids
-WHY WHY WHY I’M NOT LOOKING IT SHOULDN’T BE HAPPENING
I DON’T WANT TO REMEMBER--

Hands back around knees,
Eyes open, darting around the –bloodstained?– ground,
Finally safe,
If only for a few moments.

Trembling lips open,
Rusty vocal cords quiver,
Leaving a hoarse whisper to hang unnaturally in
The tainted space-

“Please, just let me out of here…”

I don’t want to be locked in my mind anymore…