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Cecil Miller Jul 2015
To my schitzophrenic mind,
You are all the same.
You are him and he is her,
She has more than one name.

Do not try to ever lie,
Or abet in the foolish game
In order to persuade me,
Or explain why you cannot flame.

I can see the forest for the trees.
The winds shakes their mighty lofts.
When the storm is raging,
Dieing things fall off.

What good is any word without a meaning?
Only those with tear-stained egos disagree.
Nobody wants to hear about your sacrifices.
You aren't the only ones who ever bleed.
Guess what happens at 4 in the morning around my house. Please do not buy, sell or use my poetry for fundraising on this or any other site.

— The End —