Abyssmally aware of
how lonely I've become,
I beg and plead insanity
to jury, judge, and mom

Hoping that incarceration
with people of my kind
might give me sense of right amense
and friendship, too, might find

The gun I shot, disposed at sea,
her body buried deep
All while Dad was with that whore
and thought we were asleep

So, as I'm dragged, down corridors
screaming out my lungs
kicking at imagined foes
monitored by Jung's

I sure as hell ‘ll be thinking to myself
as if other’d ever do(!)
'well Dad, this is it; what became of me
but it sure beats being stuck
serving under you'