I'm not sure if this is good enough to post, most of you know I usually write in rhyme as it seems to come so natural to me, but here goes nothing...a free verse. Go ahead and tell me if it isn't any good. :)

Can you bend your mind
around the notion
that sometimes madness
is a merely a slight twist of reason?

When silence echoes
behind the eyes
for far too long…
or lingers in the shadows of the soul
indefinitely.

When darkness reaches up
through the cracks in the floorboard,
bleeding into the room without windows…
the heart is painted in shades of
misery and destruction.

Can you taste the winds
of freedom,
while shackled in the cell of solitude?
Groping, scratching for something
you know you’ll never find.

Who else is there
when you’re alone?
When fear grips your throat
and panic tries to scream its way
out of your lungs?

Perhaps the shadow is all anyone
ever really sees of the chaos
that started the shifting thoughts
within your mind.
Though no one else can ever truly know
what keeps you awake at night,
while slithering it’s way into your daydreams.

So, who can say
what is your sickness?
Your madness, your curse?
Perhaps one day it will become defined,
more clearly outlined.

Could merely be a talent,
hiding… waiting… expanding…
yearning for its release.