Insanity

A poem I wrote similar to Edgar Allen Poe's "The Raven."

Insanity

By Cameron Shank

After looking upon the picture, deprived of color, underneath the dim light fixture,

    I took notice of a passage above; melancholy and plain.

I’ve indulged in many a cherished lore, this narrative dissimilar to it’s core.

I continued reading, my eyes vaguely sore, until I heard a sudden tapping at my window pane

Twas the rain rapping, irritatingly tapping at my window pane.

I am very much sane.

As I recall I got to me feet, leaving behind my uncomfortable seat,

And steadied myself on my old walkers cane.

Walking to my window to view the precipitation, I ambled on with such a fixation.  

A flash of illumination bestowed upon my sight an old rusty chain.

There was a bike attached to that old rusty chain.

I am stagnantly sane.

Gone were the days, sorrowfully, that I could ride through summery rays.

I would do so again, if not for my constant knee pain.

Suddenly, Irritation found myself, more so than with the book from my shelf.

Beit bad for my mental health, I stood there, continuously scrutinizing my rusty bike chain.

And so there my old bike sat,  restrained to the tree by my rusty bike chain.

I believe myself sane.

Why had I myself dissipated in a picture long since dilapidated?

       An answer to which, I could never explain.

Suddenly, as if to amaze, the sky lit up with a flash, lighting the tree ablaze.

And in my unethical daze, I stood there, feeling very cheerful at the fire fighting against the rain.

A malicious grin etched my face as I watched it rise against the rain.

Am I sane?

However, despite myself feeling a scosh cheerful, my exasperation did not dwindle   

Why was it my vexation did not so much as wane?

I ever so wanted to scratch, against that tree, a match,

And finally be dispatched of the pain seeping into my brain.

I cried out, desperate to halt the pain piercing into my brain.

I might not be sane.

In a quick act of judgement, I grabbed the story I had held, ripping through the parchment,

Until my eyes laid upon what would see my hope drain.

There, mocking me, was the burning tree.

Sanity is a heavy fee, when traveling down memory lane.

I looked at the front of the story to see who was responsible for forcing me down memory lane.

Insanity, By Cameron Shank, I am fully insane.

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[WoodenChair]

there are some great charities out there to help with mental health issues - https://www.mind.org.uk/