Voices echoing
Silence is a luxury.
Cannot make them stop
Cannot make them anything
Look someone is here
Watching lurking constantly
Don’t you see them there?
Don’t you see them lingering?
Follows me in dreams
Follows me when I’m awake
Telling awful truths
I am not imagining
People want me dead
People are my enemies
Fingernails welt skin
Trails are journeys to the bone
Blood drips from my eyes
Unseen mouths enunciate
My reality
And fill up my solitude
With their company
I will never be alone
Birds don’t sing for me
Screaming howling messages
Time does not exist
Sunlit snowfall autumn leaves
Mother wipes my chin
Father looks then walks away
Butterflies are blind
Trees with fingers grabbing me
Then a smile appears
Then it quickly fades in wood
But a voice remains
I still hear it echoing
Torture has the sweetest song.
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Wow... if Schizophrenia could be summed up in a poem this would be it's official poetic description. Having worked with so many schizophrenics, it's amazing how you capture so much of their psychosis and pain in this poem.
ReplyDeleteThank you Torey. I have had mixed reactions to this one from someone saying it was clearly written by someone who has no clue to others who believed that I was schizophrenic and writing about my experiences. I'm not, as you know. I wrote it for a contest about mental illness. I think I won.
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