The Sane Poet's Key

Insanity is at the perception from the observer.

The Sane Poet's Key

The world is mad.

Only a madman would live in a world of madness, and you are all mad.

Sane, I am sane, solely sane.

An echo repeats within the inner‑chamber of my brain.

Still, the fabric is tearing, but not for the fleas.

Where did I put my keys?

I seek shelter in the asylum where the light does not shine, 

and the shadows are not mine.

Behind coffin’s gate, black fire rises to seal my forbidden fate.

Where did I put my keys?

Here lies the truth: I am hated in life,

but will be remembered as beloved only in death.

I fell through time with a shadow over my soul and mind.

Where are my keys?

I have witnessed the damned.

Do you want to speak of God creating man, or man creating God?

Where did I put those keys?

Humanity destroys everything it births,

and no God would sculpt a creature so eager to despoil the earth.

The fabric never tore for the fleas, it tore because humanity chewed

through the seams.

I know I have keys. I know it.

God died this night.

Humanity made Him to the devil’s delight.

I need those keys.

The devil tricked me, he hid them from me! God help me get them back; if not for humanity’s fleas, then hear my plea, for even the smallest among us must have a key.

A swift shadow crossed my window;

my candle blew out in the cool mist.

My keys are lost, lost forever; my keys shall be missed.

The world is mad.

Only a madman would live in a world of madness, and you are all mad.

Sane, I am sane, solely sane.

An echo repeats within the inner‑chamber of my brain.

Still, the fabric is tearing, but not for the fleas.

Where did I put my keys?

-E. Croe