Sanity hung on a thread.

Sanity hung on a thread,
a yarn that's come unwound.
Instability lives at your core,
while your mind is filled with sound.

The sound of silences that deafen you
and noises that keep you still,
mix to form a melody
that learns to bend your will.

A will misshapen beyond compare,
kept in an ugly twisted guise,
will show you the folly of your actions,
the fool you've been, thinking you were wise.