To the doctors in the room
   I'm a mental cased, half-crazed Insomniac
      on three days of possibly self inflicted mind space
         who can't decide on medically induced comas or Prozac
To the supervisors in the room
   I'm a potential hazard, a walking disaster
      bird-brained enough to end as scrambled gizzards
         who potentially could be as useful as worthless shinplaster
To the women in the room
   I'm a useless ***, nearly morbid
      too tired to mow the lawn in the mid-morning sun
          and too lazy to help with laundry, cooking, or raising kids
To the friends in the room
   I'm a constant joke, a hilarious prank
      mumbling non-sense with little need to be provoked
         laughing hysterically as they watch as my mind goes blank
To the voices in the room
   I'm a genius, an exasperated visionary
       I've have debated the complexities of owning a *****
          and the movements of my thumb is extremely revolutionary