My
voices are demanding and can be madly deafening
As
they eat up my thoughts with their unruly ought’s,
They
can control me at times, and riddle me with rhymes –
They
are poetic with my hardship of a lack of friendship
Do
this and do that; you're too fat; take off your hat;
A
torment to bear, that they don't respectfully care:
And
they can control my fist to their hiss and bliss,
And
as I punch myself, I get worried about my health.
To
be gravely ill is a bitter pill to swallow, and at will
My
sanity is all over the place, showing on my sad face,
Victimised
for being me, and innocently I plea my insanity
Will
flee, leaving me peace of mind to be respectfully kind.
©
Andrew Stevenson 02/03/2017
An edited piece.
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.
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