Original Poetry Fan Fiction ❯ Poetry ❯ Mad ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

I stare at the Empty page and reach for words,

but words refuse to come.

All I find is the Emptiness.

Words fail me,

words flee from me as the Emptiness eats me into depression,

and the only desire that comes to me is that to fall.

Fall into the nothingness -

the nothingness that is sleep,

the nothingness filled with shapes and words that are not words,

but what is sleep and dreams:

the tactile Dreams that are my reality.

Is it desire?

Or is it nothing but madness?

Horrors too strong for us to deal consciously,

madness that claims us each night,

madness that dances with us -

sometimes showing us Joys so full and wondrous,

or at times taking control to show us terrors of what are Nightmares -

madness that we must be strong enough to wake from.

Those that never wake after falling asleep,

those that follow Yeat's Faeries -

yet they still live in what is “Our Reality” -

we name them in a coma.

Those that never wake and never live again,

we name dead.

Are they comatose?

Are they dead?

Or as Hamlet yearns to be are they asleep past “Our Reality's” reach?

Have they just succumbed to madness?

Or is it as we wake that we are dreaming in madness,

and wake each night from our madness as we dream?

Am I mad?

Have I been lost to the illusions of “Our Reality”?

Or am I just asleep?