For those who did not escape.

One thing that I hate was before the 20th and even 21st century was if someone was showing any sign of madness they would send them off to the madhouse, the Asylum, for "help". These people often just needed love and care. They just needed human beings to be for once generous. But during those times, people were scared, it was a scandal, they did not view these individuals as humans but as burden to there much worked for, untarnished reputations.

If you were a woman going mad, in the world of men, of which the world was controlled forcefully in those years, you had no chance, whether you were mad or not, you were got rid of.

I am glad that in this day an age, we can help and understand people with an affected mind.

Below is a piece of literature about this subject. A feeble attempt yes..but an attempt all the same.

Rising euphoria induced by the slightest touch, that seem to bounce off the nerves edging hungrily toward my wet skin.

Water coursing down my back, whiplash from the rain, that batters my broken lips, my aching head. I incline my head as if talk created an empty shutter like sound, that was so demanding it broke rings through the liquid that licked upon my naked skin.

The light sudden as if called by my crying mind, broke through cloud and blinded my eyes, causing me to swint and my pupils to writhe in my sockets. Warmth breathed upon my body, causing me to suck in air and splutter a reverberating sound. Laughter.

Spreading my arms wide I stumbled forward and began circling, twisting, spinning with grace. I looked down, the liquid below me, swayed then with much deliverance shot upwards, creating thread like grass, amongst many buttercups that seemed to make an avenue of houses.

A clap of thunder, graves sprung either side of  avenue and was sucked beneath the earth. The graves were blurred my heart beating out of my chest, I looked at my hands, they were smoldering in to ash. I fell to my knees, cold by the lack of clothes, hugging my shins. Looking up I began to cry, the pain in my body seemed more apparent, as they laughed. As they chucked my emotions at me, as they did not care. I buried my head and began to scream.

Scream endless screaming, A  firm hand clasped my shoulder. I awoke. I saw a young man, bow tie and suit, he seemed disgusted in what he was seeing, a young woman sprawled out on a pavement of a middle class street, with not even undergarments on.

He opened his mouth, like a gaping fish, I could not deuce what the sounds he was making.

Another man nearby, got off his couch and rushed towards me, helping the first gentlemen to bring me to the coach, wrapping me in his coat.

What they did with me, I never remembered.

All I remember is the word "Mad house"

I turned into a monster, and died alone.

My children did not remember me, as their father was ashamed to admit he had married a mad woman.

I curse the day that people started off this world with more power than sense.