The Tourist's Guide to Insanity
I went through life, searching for something to rely on,
But all I found were petty hills to die on.
And all while being reminded, that I was not the perfect scion.
Or even a decent shoulder to cry on.
So something inside me broke, I fell asleep and when I woke,
Locked in a loony bin,
Trapped like a mouse in a madhouse,
Sent to the funny farm, where I could do no harm,
I was not like them, so I ended up in an asylum,
My thoughts did not compute, so I stayed in an institute,
My delusions were in the air, going orbital, so I appeared in a mental hospital.
I got out, and on the other side, I felt like I had died,
Because there was nowhere to hide, from the pain they'd pulled out from inside,
So I hitched a ride, on an ebbing tide,
To an island, in the sea, that set me apart from humanity.
And there I rest, in the cuckoo's nest, because I don't know best.
And who knows what's next?
Author's Note: The tone of this shifts quite drastically between beginning, middle and end of this poem so I'm sorry about that, it sort of feels like different poems mashed together. As a side note, this is the second time I've rhymed 'them' with 'asylum' which only works if you pronounce it asy'lem' rather than asy'lum'. Not sure how I feel about that. Also, I feel like I've forgotten other places you can treat mental illness, I just used the terms that came to mind quickly. Anyhow, thanks for reading!