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Friday, 30 November 2018

My Own Victim

My delusions were my sad own,
They’d be mischievously prone
To play with my mental sanity
That sadly imprisoned mad me.
 
I was locked up in my mind,
Contemplating reality in kind,
As everyone was under scrutiny
A mental and also stupid travesty.
 
For a long duration of sedation
I was under some investigation,
For I was quite observably thick
With the stick of being sadly sick.
 
I travelled through a nightmare,
Without a personal, caring care,
And with shouts of suppression
I created my own sad depression.
 
© Andrew Stevenson 20/06/2017
 
An edited piece.
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

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