The Beauty of Madness

“The Beauty of Madness”

When on a silvery night—full moon,
An eccentric song doth come,
The beautiful, screaming, strained song of the loon,
From the dank, dark, dismal cells of the haunted asylum,

The madmen’s song contains melodies of tortured past,
Of their horrible tortured childhoods,
And my! Do these memories change the men fast!
Turned sane to insane, from these ranted recollections!

But sometimes, their shrill cries of harmony,
Contain something much more melancholy,
Of killing, mutilations, some things not of human nature,
Where the man becomes less human and becomes a monster of stature,

But rarer still, is the madmen’s lyrics of the mythical,
Of goblins, ghosts, ghouls, naiads, nymphs, and the devil,
These songs are either the sweetest or the darkest,
But are common in the asylums of the west,

Now as I walk down these howling, hated, halls,
I hear the songs and the ghostly chorus of the loon,
Singing, screaming, shrieking at the cold walls,
On this silvery night, with the ominous full moon.