I think I'm going mad.
This past Sunday
my papa preached
and looked me in the eye
as if my morals had
sprinted in a flee.
He yelled,
"'Surely oppression
maketh a wise man mad.'"

I may possibly be mad.
Cuckoo in the ways
the world has gone
and questioning
****** revolution
as if they have a point.
I think,
"I desire the touch of a man
yet divinity holds my heart."

I'm somewhat mad.
Like psychiatry is useless
and just a way to express questions
I trial myself
between sanity
and lively doubts.
Just remember,
"The darkness doesn't have me;
it has my thoughts."