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Jun 2016
I'm peeling the skin off my face
Because I really hate being safe
The normals, they make me afraid
The crazies, they make me feel sane

I'm insane, maybe , I'm mad,
The craziest friend that you've ever had,

You think I'm ******, you think I'm gone,

Tell the psychiatrist something is wrong,

You said I was " Over the bend, entirely bonkers"

You like me best when I'm off my rocker
So I'll Tell you a secret, I'm not alarmed

So what if I'm crazy? The best people are

Where is my prescription?
Doctor, doctor please listen
My brain is scattered
You can be Alice,
I'll be the mad hatter.

You'll try to lock me up,
And tell me to keep my mouth shut,
These visions that I'm seeing are slowly but surely decreasing.

I see a man with yellow eyes,
He's scratching at his own face,
He tells me to run but I know they'll try to chase.

So I stay locked up,
Kept quiet and buckle up,
For the next therapy session,
Where they'll tell me I'mΒ Β crazy with discretion.
As mentioned in a few of my former poems, I suffered with schizophrenia for 2 years, in that time i was permanently hospitalised, but the things I was seeing and hearing wouldn't go away. I was even told that they were worried that I would be in there for the rest of my life. But very slowly the schizophrenia faded and I was let out.
It's been 3 years since I was released and I'm completely fine and stable now:)
Written by
Eloi  20/F/London
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