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Saturday, March 20, 2010

Sonnet of the Mentally Ill

You know what it's like to live in my head?
Connections aren't made like they are for you,
More often than not you wish you were dead.
It's hard keeping straight what's what and who's who.

Important things get lost in the jumble.
The pill drill can help, though not all the time,
Frustration at this can make you mumble,
But take them you must, or walls you will climb.

Some days it's hard not to sink through the floor,
With mangled thoughts and twisted perceptions,
I don't want to feel this way anymore.
Shrinks say they cure, what cunning deception.

Counseling may help, and the pills do to,
But all said and done, I'd rather be you!

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