I don’t know about you

sometimes I wonder

what it takes to make you see

you are a lot crazier than me


I get the pills and therapy

you get along without

I see you longing for voice

to tell them of your choice


reason of your stemming

time of ripening buds

when friends are not real

fantasy and threat replaces their deal


with the Devil, to sanction or report

the fact that they no longer

see a point to being in the thrall

of psychotic dreams of poetic gall.



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