Asylum

He started out as a regular guy.
He had a job, a family, and an adequate house.
He was nice and peaceful, he wouldn't hurt a fly.
But suddenly his life flipped around.
His wife died, a hit and run.
And now she was buried, six feet deep in the ground.
He turned to the bottle, to drown his sorrows
He fell into a deep chasm of depression.
He grew to loathe the sunrise of the 'morrow.
Then he found a solution.
The voices started to talk to him.
He found that if he didn't talk to anyone, stuck to his own constitution.
It was much easier to live.
Unfortunately, the voices got to loud and he tried to silence them.
He put a noose around his neck, but the voices had more to give.
His neighbors, the dastardly neighbors took him to the asylum.
They put him in a room with soft walls and silence.
It was like his own little island.
An island on which his voices ruled.
So now he sits, he sits in the left corner and cries, screaming for the voices to quiet