Depending on the mood, I sit alone,
Experimenting with my mental state,
Experiencing extreme love and hate,
Perpetually being on my own.
Depending on your love, I face the world,
Extending my self beyond these four walls,
Propelling my fear down corridor’d halls,
Returning each night to my bed uncurled.
Ev’rything I try to do comes undone:
Some thing’s got to give way, must it be me?
Sweet sanity is precious mental health —
Insanity blocks out the Maker’s Son.
Outside the darkness is easy to see;
No thing’s in here expect for Pluto’s stealth…