Poster boy for sanity

Just a short little poem

Poster boy for sanity

 

The poster boy for sanity?

My life is one big calamity

Float from one disaster to the next

Look at my life, I must be hexed

Invading thoughts, driving me mad

Sitting here rocking, I feel so sad

I'm really not insane I say

Or maybe I am today

Author's Note

I love feedback so fire away

Reviews

[LonelySoul]

is it just for vanity,for one to claim their sanity,
the more they announce,the Shrinks want to pounce,
and turn it all into a calamity,trying to prove your insanity,
or maybe it's just lazy me,today it could be crazy me,
but do I see a similarity...?

[Siddartha Beth Pierce]

You certainly expres your personal struggles well. A succinct and moving write.
Light,
Siddartha

[Jade (insanity)]

Most people would say one was insane. But I think not. I understand the feeling of being insane. Always questioning yourself, as I have come to understand in this piece. Great job
Keep writing,
Jade

[Bhavya Kaushik]

I liked it!
It is short yet very deep and thoughtful.
You have conveyed the feeling behind it very well with your words.
The closing lines concluded the entire poem so perfectly, loved it!

[Aldora Sparrow]

Very original and interesting. I really liked the flow of rhythm, though it is a little awkward for the 3rd and 4th lines. The rhymes are a little forced in places, but it doesn't detract. Otherwise, nice job!

[Gandré]

the way is - change the pattern?

[A.r. Bazian]

Nice... loved this one...quite good!
short straight to the point, emotional... rock solid!
i like it!

[deeps]

I like this, i thought the last line was kind of cute really.
This is wonderful. Excellent rhyme scheme and flow.

[Bennett Logan]

"Or maybe I am today" says it all. Nice work. Honesty is indeed your strong suit.

[Tina Kline]

Your words create a feeling how I think a lot of people feel in this world. Nicely done.

[Pax Analog]

Sanity is a profound subject, an iceberg 4/5 beneath the surface.

As the word "poster" inclines, your verse skates on the surface of the ice. You've carved a figure "8" w/your rhyming skates thusly.

I do wonder what a blowtorch applied to the iceberg sanity melts into of course. Or rather, it's an ongoing enterprise for me, the depth and span of "crazy wisdom."

Kafka wrote something about writing being a pickaxe applied to the frozen unconscious, or suchlike. Use a blowtorch or pickaxe to melt or crack down beneath your skates.