I'm lost in nostalgia today, hehe.

My first and only attempt (circa 1999) at the Shakespearean sonnet (iambic pentameter, rhyme scheme ABABCDCDEFEFGG) with enjambed lines a' la Robert Browning's My Last Duchess :

I sometimes think that if I searched my mind
and happened u'pon some dusty, lonely wing
of memories long forgotten, I would find
a clearer explanation of the string
of dark uncertain thoughts that fill my head
with premonitions of impending doom
and worldwide pandemonuim. Instead,
I'm quite surprised to find that in this room,
pressed hard against these stark white padded walls
a part of me that wants to stay and hide--
A part that recognizes that life calls
for so much more than I posess inside.

My sanity, has left, it couldn't bear
To face the callous, dark cold world out there.