Creative Writing: One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest
The holding cell was a bad place for a person like me. The only things to do was pick my nail beds sore or let my mind catch up to the mess I’ve created. John had been the only thing keeping me sane for some time, and I guess that was my own mistake. Never put all your money on one horse. A time ago he married the pretty smile, songbird singing, and domestic comfort. He didn’t know what he was getting into, but once he was invested, his kind heart didn’t have the guts to take it’s vows back. My hair was turning grey, wrinkles carving deeper in my skin, and my quilt knotting hands had grown shakey. In the same fashion as my own mother, my mind was frying out, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, plain crazy. I knew it was going to happen, it’s