I am not Myself

Imagine getting victimised by your own body.
Your brain turns against you in the fight, 
and you are always strapped down.
Standing there, watching everybody pass,
nothing about you is acknowledged
and you realise you don't know what's real.

What you're looking at might not be real.
Running through the streets, everything is a fight.
You scream, "I understand nothing and I am not in my body." 
You are standing still, watching everybody pass
as if you never even made a sound; nobody acknowledged, 
nobody fought for you, everybody sat down.


Your throat hurts and you're sinking down,
into your own tormented body,
like it has given up the fight
to have your own thoughts even acknowledged.
Everything will pass,
but with this, nothing again will ever be real.

Your fight to end your schizophrenic mind will
not be acknowledged. Your thoughts will pass unnoticed and
everything will descend down. No longer is your body real.


This poem is about: 
My community
Our world


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