Someone is out to get me, I thought;
Murmurs and whispers, I hear them a lot.
Something keeps creeping under my skin,
Even the roses smell like a rotten rat!
My mom and dad visit me often;
Whether it's spring or autumn!
Am perplexed at their existence,
Those burning pyres, I haven't yet forgotten!
Two poles reside in me, told am I;
Either euphoria or anhedonia.
Do lunar phases manage me?
Then why this phantasmagoria!
Then the healer tells me it's incurable!
Should I really want a cure if I am Fully Able!
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Schizophrenia
Someone is out to get me, I thought;
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