Natasha Elizabeth Beatrice Williams
Welcome To The Mad House
Being mad, it's fun.
I'm mad, you better run.
Being mad, it's wonderful.
I'm mad, you will too fall.
Being mad, what a joy!
I sit here, alone, in the dark.
And here's me thinking, 'Boy, what a lark! '
This is nothing compared to what's inside my head.
Why don't you lay me to rest, or to bed?
Being mad, it's simple.
I'm mad, and you have dimples.
Being mad, it's scary.
I'm mad, you better be wary.
Being mad, it's terrible!
My straight jacket drawn in tight.
I don't know why, I always get out at night.
My eyes burn at the door.
What is the true sense of law?
Being mad, it's boring.
I'm mad, but I am alluring.
Being mad, it's depressing.
I'm mad, I'm not oppressing.
You look at me like something, I can't tell what.
Is it a good thing? Or are all your eyes set to robot?
Or is it that you're amazed that I got this far?
Well I haven't, not without someone else's help so far.
Being mad, I wonder if half of the things I see exist.
I'm mad, I sit here, writing things like this.
Being mad, or am I the only normal one?
I'm mad, loving this strange bond.
You want to talk to someone that's not mad do you? Well, sorry dear, but… Everybody's mad here :)
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Comments about this poem (Welcome To The Mad House by Natasha Elizabeth Beatrice Williams )
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