Thinking machine warped.
That was the rumor.
Perhaps a pressure on the brain,
a tumor?
No reason for the aberrant behavior.
No defenders, certainly no savior.
And now the time had come
to pay the price.
The options like a pair of loaded dice.
Go back on point
and thus return to normal.
Declare oneself insane
and make it formal.
Regardless, said the judge,
of what your choice is, you must
kill off at least one set of voices.
Or pick eternal quietude instead.
Then spend your days
amongst the living dead.
But, lo, he found the back route
out of hell
that hung inside the haven of his cell.