A Madhouse

Sincerely, Adham ap None

"And she said that the woman over there was being a downright bitch to her! I think we should do something," a wife says to her husband, while their daughter looks with tearful eyes to them both. Over in the corner the subject of their conversation, the bitch, stands. A girl, a little younger than myself it looks like. Piercing stare; filled with judgment.

I hear the rain outside, close my eyes, and fall in to my thoughts. I've been doing it a lot lately, and it's made me realize, I cannot stand myself. I see all the things I should have done, all the things I could have done. I see all the insults to mother that I should have reacted to. My sins, and I'm my own judge, and my own jury. I'm my own God. If I had lightning, I think I'd shoot it at myself.

I'm lazy. So lazy. I know what I want, but I haven't the mental determination to attack it. All I want to do is sit here thinking; thinking about the plays, the poems - thinking about mother. Despising father. Thinking about sister, and the thoughts before. I thought about killing her. I even threatened it. Would I really? I don't know. The way I lounge about, I'm not inclined to do anything. Picking up a sword is beyond me. Training myself so I don't get tired toting that blade about is beyond me. The rain is so soothing...

And the people are not. I'm stuck inside listening to each false syllable. Listening to them go through the routines of life, routines that they know. If somebody laughs, they laugh. If somebody dies, they cry. If somebody lies, they don't ask why - they just lie too.

I hate it, but what am I to do?