Distractions and psychiatry
Helping to cope with the truth
Doctor, tell me the diagnosis
An acute case of wasted youth.
These days spent tethered away
To their life measuring machines
Listen for the steady rhythm,
The weak chorus my heart sings.
My empty eyes are fixed staring,
A weak voice’s whispered begging
Bring me an end to the agony
The pain of my frail body failing.
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 9:00 PM UTC
Distractions and psychiatry
Helping to cope with the truth
Doctor, tell me the diagnosis
An acute case of wasted youth.
These days spent tethered away
To their life measuring machines
Listen for the steady rhythm,
The weak chorus my heart sings.
My empty eyes are fixed staring,
A weak voice’s whispered begging
Bring me an end to the agony
The pain of my frail body failing.
Request permission to use this poem