Insanity

A ballad that I wrote about not writing a sonnet. It is kinda about not writing a sonnet but also what I would've put in the sonnet, had i written it. It's about craziness

Insanity 
 
Angry waves crash against huge cliffs 
Bound within their soil cage. 
Waves fling themselves at barriers, 
Mad, slow, eroding rage. 
 
The cliffs those waves strike have a name. 
Cliffs of Insanity. 
Part of the cause of this madness: 
Something  “Pentamety". 
 
My English teacher wants us to 
Write in that kind of beat. 
She had us count out the rhythm 
On nothing but our feet. 
 
"It's iambic pentameter," 
She says, though it I dread. 
"It's from all the Shakespearian plays," 
Not much of those I've read. 
 
"3 quatrains"- whatever that means. 
"Group of lines"- what's a line? 
A line's a line, simple as that. 
A ballad will do fine. 
 
The sides of those cliffs slowly fall, 
Giving up to Rage's toll. 
My brain has stopped working- for now. 
Strong waves lap at my soul.
 
Over the top the waves have breached- 
Go on to take my world. 
Waves are now Insanity Waves. 
In a corner I've curled. 
 
They slowly wash over my mind, 
All from the inside out. 
Finally they are in power. 
Some reason, I don't pout. 
 
I unfurl and look all around. 
My world? Insanity. 
Waves continuously splashing. 
But it doesn't bother me. 
 
From your silly reality, 
I was thought of doomed. 
Only the insane move on though, 
Not all are consumed. 

 

Author's Note

eh?