Loony Bin

My friends were all sent to the loony bin today.

It was quite funny, I really must say.

It starts like this:

One bit me, and tasted my metallic blood.

I could not move away –– it's like I was stuck in mud.

Another just smiled and sneered at my pain.

My favorite friend touched the bite mark, to see if I was okay.

It hurt, it really hurt, like electricity surging through my wound and brain.

I screamed in my mind, a silent, ear-splitting sound,

But not out loud –– blood had begun to fill my mouth, like I was being drowned.

And as blood began to stuff my nose, smelling sharp and sickly sweet,

And my eyes, too, tinting everything red and filling my sight with heat,

My ears –– still clear –– picked up a sound: laughter.

My friends were laughing at me.

And soon, I began laughing, too –– it was funny, really.

We hooted and chuckled and cried, washing the blood away with our tears,

And then I realized something about my peers:

They were just voices in my head, and they were not being sent to the loony bin ––

It was me instead.