The flowers are singing to me

and the trees are moaning with glee.

The birds are whispering somewhere near

And the air is yodeling in my ear.

Most people would think this all to be a joyous thing

But for me it causes insanity to spring.

I begin hearing horrible atrocities

Traveling at different velocities

I am easily tempted to let it out of its cage.

I will gladly demonstrate its violent rage.

You may want to stand behind the yellow line.

Insanity is certainly heinous; it’s a disease of mine.

For it is an unusual insanity you see?

No one can feel it, no one but me!

This awful feeling is not for you to touch.

It’s only for me to tightly clutch.

The flowers will begin to speak something vile.

The birds begin to cough up their own bile.

The wind begins shrieking for me to leave.

The trees in my presence begin to grieve.

This unusual insanity is dreadfully wrong.

A mental facility is where I belong.

However it is not a treatment I yearn

Sanity is not something I am willing to learn

I love how this came out. It’s probably one of my favorite ones so far. However it really scared me once it was written. It’s very demented. Actually, it was originally going to be a happy poem, but then I began to think, “If I really heard birds whispering to me, I’d think I was going insane.” I was also thinking of Dr. Franken Stein from Soul Eater. He’s a wonderful nut case.

I only used Rhyme Zone to look up a definition- if I remember correctly.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed my twisted little poem. :)