A little taste, a little tear, a little case of jiving fear.

She could feel her heart pounding as they moved in closer and closer to her, the system of colours and lights and noises and tastes and sensations around her were spinning out of control.

The wind whirls, your mind twirls, you’re out of control.

Everywhere she looked they were coming to get her, she was trapped and there was no way around it. They thought she was crazy. But they had every right to, didn’t they?

I mean, what if she was crazy? What does being crazy even mean? Maybe she wasn’t in her right mind, she couldn’t remember, wasn’t sure she wanted to remember any of the conversation she had had with her doctor the last time she went to go and see him.

The whole world was spinning with her and she turned, trying to see some sort of escape from this situation, anything her eyes could latch onto, even a seconds worth of a gap in between the approaching figures that she could make it out of.

Freedom is none, the madness has won, why exist? You are powerless to resist.

A tiny gap, a fleeting thought. Her feet were pounding against the hard concrete of the playground, she was aiming for the tiny gap only to find herself being flung backwards suddenly and falling on the floor, her head hitting with a harsh thump.

And here you lie, still on the ground, insanity is found, time to die.