Asylum Jaunt

A crossroads in my life,
I remember it well,

Mundanity one way,
A tiresome future,
A pointless existence,
Eccentricity over yonder,
The way of the top hat,
The path of the face-paint,

I chose the only path I could,

Now I jaunt along it,
A cane in one gloved hand,
And a pen in the other,
A jester marotte in my pocket,
My top hat standing tall,
A capricious design upon my face,

Where my grin goes,
Kaleidoscopic and macabre images follow me,
There can be no end to the madness,
This procession of the asylum continues.

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