On His Madness

They say I'm mad.
What is madness, then?
My manic grin?
That is my art of threat;
The act of seeming deadly
is more effective than a gun.

They say I'm mad.
What is madness, then?
My lack of trust?
I'd rather not
be mistaken again.
Too many die
from confusing it
with stupidity.

They say I'm mad.
What is madness, then?
My ruthless pragmatism?
It frequently
saved our lives.
Would you rather I were
more honourably suicidal?

They say I'm mad.
What is madness, then?
Pedantic psychotechs would claim
I'm sane.
"His sociopathic tendencies
fall within
the limits of eccentricity.
His paranoia is self-defence;
he has real enemies."
If I were crazy
I would abdicate
my responsibilities;
use my madness as excuse
for actions I abhor.
Who says no-one would know?
The witness would be me.
I cannot agree
to be mad.

They say I'm mad.
What is madness, then?
Who decrees who are the madmen?
And who will listen to them?
Not I.

They say I'm mad.
Too bad.

-- Kathryn A