The Mainly Apt Dread

Madness's singing in your head,
Telling they're not far from dead,
Reassuring it's okay,
When you laugh and scream and slay.
Blood is bubbling in your veins
In excitement from the pains,
Whispering that it's all right
When their yells rip through the night.
And nothing has been wrong so far,
Their hearts are always yours to mar,
Calling in to you and thus,
Reap and hang and, well, abuse.