Madness

it is but a veneer, a mask,
it is a little brown flask,
where rides the waters blue and red,
it stops when i go to bed

and happiness, it doth hide
beneath that little sheath,
and it comes out to slay, aside
the demons of sanity, to lay a wreath...

and hope, it holds high
a flag, of serenity, yet fluttering
beneath the darkened sky
a thousand curses, muttering

of why I couldn't smile,
when the world wants me to
and walk that extra mile
to do what it wants me to

And this madness, there is a cure
But no one knows yet, for sure
And here laughing, I lie, tonight
in Madness, grounded,yet in flight...