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Rudyard Kipling - The Mother`s Son
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I have a dream — a dreadful dream —
  A dream that is never done.
I watch a man go out of his mind,
  And he is My Mother`s Son.

They pushed him into a Mental Home,
  And that is like the grave:
For they do not let you sleep upstairs,
  And you aren`t allowed to shave.

And it was not disease or crime
  Which got him landed there,
But because They laid on My Mother`s Son
  More than a man could bear.

What with noise, and fear of death,
  Waking, and wounds and cold,
They filled the Cup for My Mother`s Son
  Fuller than it could hold.

They broke his body and his mind
  And yet They made him live,
And They asked more of My Mother`s Son
  Than any man could give.

For, just because he had not died,
  Nor been discharged nor sick,
They dragged it out with My Mother`s Son
  Longer than he could stick….

And no one knows when he`ll get well —
  So, there he`ll have to be:
 And, `spite of the beard in the looking-glass,
   I know that man is me!
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