The Color of Insanity

The color of insanity
Is the one that colors me
White for the color of this cell.
Black for the darkness of this hell.
Blue for the sky I shall never see again.
Red for the bane, they say I am.
They say I am mad,
That I am disturbed.
But I am not perturbed.
And I am not sad.
For the color of insanity,
Is not a sad color indeed.
They say I have a psychosis
That is their diagnosis.
I am schizophrenic,
I don't think that this is authentic,
They are all fools,
Loud, bombastic, and crude.
They only do it for money.
Though if you think about it.
It is actually pretty funny,
They pump me full of whatever drug,
That they think will make the most money.
How funny, how funny.
If I were not trapped in this damnable cell,
If I were not trapped in this white padded hell.
I would teach them a thing or two.
Oh if only they knew, if only they knew,
For you see, a friend I have,
A security guard with a funny hat.
He snuck me in a knife you see.
The doctor asked me why I was so happy,
That was when I showed him why.
That was when I cut out his lies.
I escaped that white padded hell,
I am free from that damnable cell.
So I write this now,
Being hunted down.
They search for me with gusto,
There is something they must know though.
When they open that bloody door,
The bomb there will blow their brains,
All over the floor.
Category:Poetry
Category:Mental Illness