A serpent slithered his way to me and hissed:*"Whistle while you worked, for your misery is looming".
There was his omen of impending doom. But omens had no place in my busy life so I sliced and diced him. My death he foretold but my dinner he became. Still, in bed at night, his words lingered, like the sound of Silence, like a son of Entropy.
And when I would wake up, there he was, hissing that glistening omen, over and over again.
His voice was like a thousand vorpal blades tearing the Jabberwacky apart. He was tearing the very fabric of my insane insanity.
Two moons had passed, maybe more, probably less, but the count I had lost.
This hydra I had killed more times that I could remember. With this dull blade of mine, I had kept severing his head, only to see another minstrel appear in front of my face as I opened my eyes every morning, slowly mesmerizing me with the song of my impending demise.
But then one day, suddenly, I lost the will to shut down the voices in my head. The blade rippled into my heart and the serpent finally stopped talking to me. But not until he had the last word and I the last manic laugh.
"You ignored my warnings and hissed your lying truths. But a serpent I am not, nor am I a hydra. I am the Ouroboros of your sanity, biting my own tail, gnawing on myself until I am gone. And at this very second, I am gone. Forever"
Mad hatter to mad hatted had I become and in the corridors of my own mental asylum, I was nowhere to be found.