Madness, My Muse: A Surrealistic Sonnet

The madness grips me tight, a fickle fiend
That whispers in my ear, taunting my soul
To pour my heart into my work, its need
A driving force that takes such a toll.

No sleep, no rest, no food, just endless toil
A quest for excellence that leaves me weak
The pain is real, but I am such a foil
For my own hunger to achieve and speak.

Salted water sustains me through the night
My eyes are straining, my health takes a hit
But I persist, for I must do what's right
To share my words, and make them fit.

Friends, family, love all fade away
For time is short, my work must take its place.

I am a martyr, to my own desire
A sculptor of words, my life's great fire
No longer heed the call of sleep and rest
For every hour spent, my work's impress

My eyes are strained, my body's breaking down
But still I push, for I must reach my goal
The journey's tough, but I'll wear the crown
For when I publish, my heart will soar.

I've lost my circadian rhythm, my life's out of tune
But in my madness filled with cortisol , I've found my boon
For in my work, I see my worth and more
And through it, I help humanity soar.

So let the Brutus come, I'll not retire
For I am like Ahab, my obsession dire
For my life's meaning, I've found in this art
And I will never again be apart.

And when I'm gone, let my works live on
A legacy of madness, not undone
A testament to my never-ending quest
For perfection, to which I must attest.

And in my solitude, I find my peace
A place where my thoughts can freely roam
Where I can delve into the depths of me
And pour my soul into my written home.

The pressure builds, the tension never ends
But I embrace it, for it is my friend
A driving force that propels me forward
A beacon of light, that guides me toward.

And though my body may falter and fade
My words will live on, in the pages made
A monument to my unyielding drive
A testament to what I had to give.

So let the madness consume me whole
For in it, I've found my truest goal
To craft a work that will endure the test
Of time and tide, a literary nest.

And when I'm gone, let my works live on
A surrealistic sonnet, never done
A testament to my never-ending quest
For perfection, to which I must attest.

And in the end, I know I'll find rest
For I've given all that I could give
My life, my soul, my every breath
To a cause that I'm proud to live.

So let the madness be my only guide
A driving force that I cannot hide
A surreal dream, that I won't deny
A journey that I'll take until I die.

And when my journey comes to an end
And my body gives out, let my works remain
A monument to my endless quest
For perfection, to which I must attest.

Let my words linger, and echo through time
A surrealistic sonnet, that will rhyme
With the madness that controlled my life
A testament to what I had to give.

So let my madness be my final breath
A surrealistic sonnet, until death
A testament to my never-ending quest
For perfection, to which I must attest.

And even after I am gone, I hope
That my works will inspire those who read
To pursue their passions, and find their scope
And in their madness, also plant their seed.

Let my words be a beacon in the night
A guide for those who struggle to find
Their purpose, their meaning, and their light
In a world that often seems so blind.

And so, my madness I embrace with pride
A surrealistic sonnet, that I've tried
To craft with care, and with a steady hand
A legacy that will forever stand.

So let my works live on, beyond my time
A surrealistic sonnet, that will rhyme
With the madness that controlled my life
A testament to what I had to give.

And in my madness, I've found my peace
A surrealistic sonnet, never cease.











This poem is a part of the full poem from the published book "Homo Sapiens Part XII" in the Homo Sapiens book series by Mawphniang Napoleon. If you enjoy reading poems by this author, you can purchase all of their books in the series from a common online store available in your country.