Unlucky Serpent

a few verses about madness

What is the nature of madness, really? 
Not medically, not mental illness�"
that already has established fine lines and boundaries detailing its nature

I mean madness--
philosophically--
in the context of the human spirit and soul.

Is it constant?
--an ever-present figure lurking in the shadowy corners of one's mind waiting for the time to show itself, 
to leap out into the haze of a streetlight and attack one's sanity as it's walking home from dinner or drinks? 
Or does it ebb and flow with fickle disposition, 
slowing winding its way through the mind, 
at once River and Serpent, 
striking then receding back to its shallow home. 

How does madness choose its subject? 
Is there a certain character predisposed to prematurely losing their mind?

Or is it completely and utterly random, a never-ending losing hand, an infinite unlucky streak?

Author's Note

what do you think of the title?
please be brutally honest when reviewing

Reviews

[William Liston]

I like this, but based on the flow of the words, I think it would be better off as a prose poem. The flow doesn't seem suitable for verse, but at the same time, the wonderful imagery and eloquent language give it a poetic effect. I look forward to reading more of your writing. Keep up the great work.