Madness

Madness and darkness seem one and the same,
Both frightening and wild, with dangers untamed.
You injected abruptly, “That’s not quite right,”
It’s more that Madness just burns so bright,
It strips out the color from all sources of light.

Awful and lonely, that much is true,
But in Madness, there is so much to do.
I don’t intend to alter your perception,
But Madness, my dear, is a radiant deception.

“I don’t quite comprehend it,” I mused,
“Why would anyone ride on that ship of fools?”
“No living soul,” you swiftly replied,
Would willingly embrace the Madness inside.

Just as no one would ever choose to be born,
Who knows life is all the less roses than thorns.
“I still don’t grasp,” I confessed with confusion,
It seemed as if Madness was no more than illusion.

“There is much to dread, and more,” you spoke,
“From Madness, no lies can ever be cloaked.
Do you believe I asked for this torment, this strife?
This was not a choice I would make for my life.

All I yearned for was sunshine and flowers,
Not pain nor anguish nor fears lasting hours.
Yet you must embrace it, let it seep in,”
You whispered to me with a wolfish grin.
“Or Madness, my love, will always win.”