Confirming Whispered Rumors (Or, Yes, Virginia, I am insane)

You whisper that I am quite mad,

I can see that trait in me.

But it’s you who should be pitied

In your mundane misery.

I have moods so dark, so deep,

At times I’m on the brink.

And my pesky thoughts just won’t shut up

I hardly sleep a wink.

Then there are moments, too few to count

When I’m happy and content.

Even rarer than those, I think

When I feel I must repent.

I’m not too far gone to see your point.

I’m crazy as a loon.

Sometimes a soul must give up the day

To dance in the full moon.

If nothing else, I’m seldom bored.

Each day is a surprise.

I don’t know if I’m ill or well

Until I pick out my disguise.

In a blank white room, no one around

I can amuse my mind.

With all the trinkets in the world

You would still be blind.

So don’t offer me your sympathy

It’s you who needs it now.

You will never change your simple life

Your mind won’t show you how.

*This picture comes from a website I found while searching for something that would fit this poem. The site is actually dedicated to artists who were mentally ill including Henri de Toulouse Lautrec, the artist of this painting. His mental illness, ironically enough, was clinical depression. That was the diagnosis I was given as well in my teens and it was the depression and the insomnia that comes with it that led to this poem. Since I picked out the picture before I read about the artist, I thought that was an interesting tid bit to share. The link to the site, for anyone interested in seeing the work of artists you may know as well as their diagnosis is

http://www.findingoptimism.com/blog/reviews/art-by-the-famous-mentally-ill/