Awaken from a torrent dream
perched on the edge of bed
reflections of
Christmas Past
encapsulate my groggy mind

Grandma asleep
protecting the gifts and tree
from my stealth like
sneak tactics to preview
what Santa left behind

I miss her loving smile
rarely seen in any photo
I miss her hugs & snippets
of wisdom in which I've
passed along to my seed

Longing to see the complete
family gathered as one
in celebration of the
seasons offerings as we
sing, feast and love.

And it seems that lately,
they run and hide when inevitably,
their actions no longer can be seen through the words they spoke, so openly.
And yet, they notice me,
but not the things that I see, or see through.
I see you.
But when the mirror is perfectly placed, towards their face,
they are off and away, again today,
to run away from the day that could teach them to stay.
And so I say, we will never learn the lessons we do not search for.
Or even more, we will keep running to closed doors
that were built to remind you that you ignored they keys that jingle so dormant
on your soul's cold floor.
It's in the fire of my core that I learned to be as fluid as the ocean shore.
Being as vast as that,
my mind becomes confused when they run from all that they lack.
Moving fast just to stay in place,
now I know why they can't look me in my face. It's a disgrace, the way that they blame the day. Everything they say,
while looking the other way,
reaching for the things they only would push away when day breaks.
And it seems like lately,
they are wasting their breath, spoken so shaky. this is why they do not shake me,
I am so unmoved by anything that does not move with me, genuinely.
A stale tone never would break me,
though my voice travels, ever so faintly.

My house is filled with ghosts,
That only I can see,
I try to tell my mother,
But she laughs at me.

They haunt my every step,
Whispering past events,
telling me their stories,
Filling me with worries.

I lay in bed at night,
Full of anxiety and fright,
That one of them might try to hurt me.

I see jet black figures in my mirrors,
And deformed silhouettes in my windows,
I close my eyes and pray for them to go away.

I guess I'm just intruding,
Living where they once did,
They have followed me around since I was a kid.

My mother takes me to the doctor,
Who diagnoses  me with schizophrenia,
Says' it's all in my head,
That I can't see anyone who's dead.

Locked in an institution for days,
They still wouldn't go away,
They never left my side,
They haunt me still to this day.

Am I crazy?
I see people, who aren't really there.
They talk to me, whispering things in my ear.

Shhh,
Don't tell anyone.
They'll lock you back up,
No discretion, but you just have bad luck.

They tell me I'm psychotic,
And dose me up on meds,
To make me feel "sane" again,
Their lies I will be fed.

But I've been there before, I've seen the road and I've been through the doors,
Seconds feel like years when you're in an asylum,
Your heart they will pour.

Don't call me schizophrenic,
Because I swear that I'm not,
I know the people that I see,
Were  once alive like me.

A psych ward is the place to be,
Come along, and you will see.
You'll be welcomed by forgotten silent deaths
and torturous screams.
An everlasting place of a need to be free.

Come on down to the "freak show",
We'll show you how we rock and roll,
Some say that we're unhinged,
But trust me honey, the fun is about to begin.

A lobotomy a day keeps the schizophrenia away they say,
An electric chair isn't the cruelest thing there,
By far it is knowing that you are not crazy, amongst a world that is.

We'll dance for you, we do it well.
But if we don't, torture will make it amends.
We sit here day on day, hoping for freedom,
Uncanny, unlikely, and an impossible dream.

A  psych ward is the place to be,
We'll grow old here and die a forgotten death,
The music is still playing,
The patients are still dancing,
This is my last day.

So come on down to our freak show, join our family, we'll show you how to rock and roll,
And die insanely.