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Isaac Carden Sep 2024
I may not hear them,
But they're not dead.
I notice them at times.
They sway my mind
And turn my head.

They used to make me hurt,
Reminding me of things
I try not to remember.
They played their games
With me right in the center.

They'd mumble to each other
And utter parts of phrases
To hold my interest
And keep me thinking.

They knew my private thoughts
And heard my monologue.
I always felt like I was watched.

They made me feel ashamed,
They forced me into fantasy,
And soon my mind was gone.
This poem is inspired by the experiences I've had as a schizophrenic.

— The End —