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Alienpoet Jun 2018
You never see my pain
behind the cold rain
I hide them all the same
A so called ******
I don’t choose to schizophrenic
it’s God’s epidemic
when the cave man called to the divine
when he spoke to the trees
as gods when he believed
did you think the ones who didn’t believe
tormented him yes they probably did
but without looking outside our shell
we can’t see heaven or hell
and if you don’t look science as well.
Joshua Michael Mar 2018
Its the feeling you get when your mind is a war zone, a warped home where grimmy thoughts roam, with no guidance or support zone, your so frightened to fight it on your own. More poems of suicide and self harm, you ever dreamt you died and felt calm? Just a truant mind with health crimes, help cant cure a ruined life in Hell's palms. You fell in to a ditch and because of it popping bottles of pills that you mixing your ***** with, then nodding off a bit picturing god and all of it, a doctors on the phone telling you to ***** it. Consistently monitored, the alcohol, the quiting , the six, seven seizures, its the moment a schizophrenic freezes, hearing a voice that whispers when it pleases, the vigilant bulimic, the obsessive and compulsive,the bipolar mood swing and stomach ulcers. Its the hidden issues that the medicine alters. Its the judgmental that the depression repulses ,the anxiety, the psychs with the notes, the post traumatic stress and the vices to cope. The prices of dope,the ice in the pipe that you smoke. The knife the rope, the temptation of slicing your throat. Its the stigma determined to scare you, when the bourbon your served is your urgent repairer. When not feeling nervous becomes rarer and your mom quits  her job to become your permanent carer. Its the psychotic episodes, the days that you lost seeking help, but being crazy isn't something I am ashamed to admit, so stay strong anybody who relates to this, please.
Seema Dec 2017
The days go by
Yet the truth untold
They say I lie
But the mystery is yet to unfold
I saw the scene I saw it all
He killed that man over the fall
I narrated the whole scene to them
But they say, they needed a clue
A witness of the killing
Someone who was willing
To report the misery
I tried convincing him to believe
But no action taken till the eve
The authorities questioned me the next day
I told them I saw the ****** the other day
Man with a red hood and a track suit
Wearing dark glasses as if aiming for a loot
Within seconds, stabbed the guy and ran away
He didn't see me, and ran off the other way
You have to believe me!!
It's not one of those hallucination
Doctors say I am doing fine with less reaction
"And the officer went away, with a smile"
I knew he didn't believe cause am still under medication
Am a patient of schizophrenic but not a manic
I saw the culprit with my eyes
But all say that my statement were lies
Its been over a month, yet the killing is now a mystery
And soon the files would close, the case a history!

©sim
Spilling imagination. Fictional poetic story.
Chaotic world Aug 2017
I wish I was blind,
It would help ease my mind,
I wonder what it would be like to be blind,
Would I be able to find peace if I was,
Because I’m stuck in the jaws of the devil,
And he’s injecting with his venom,
It makes me see things that aren’t there,
It’s like a forever nightmare,
Where i’m running away from monsters created from my brain,
I try to restrain myself from going insane,
But I can't contain myself from the hurricane in my head,
Instead I let it spread to my heart,
It sets me apart from everyone else,
I wish I can say I was all alone,
That all I did was plug my headphones,
And all my worries just disappeared,
But the reality is I feared to be alone,
No one there allowed for my thoughts to come alive,
Which deprived me from a happy life,
Because I was constantly questioning what was real,
I wanted to seal my eyes shut,
But that wouldn’t stop the whispering in my ear,
It always felt like death was near,
And I figured death wouldn’t be a bad option,
Corruption filled my head,
Which led my imagination to be darkened,
And I became a burden,
I didn’t want to tell anyone I was seeing images,
So hear my words if you aren’t getting my messages,
I am schizophrenic,
And I’m not writing my story for you to feel apologetic,
I write for you to understand,
That there are others like me who try to withstand,
The disease that scares us to open our eyes,
So when our brain paints us a lie,
I pray someone is there to help us realize.
Simon Soane Apr 2017
I'm a schizophrenic hypocrite,
thankfully not in a medical way
I don't have to pop pills everyday
to keep an essence of danger under control
and to stop my head doing backward flips and forward rolls
to curtail bad thoughts and contain OCD
wake up and think "what's happening to me?"
but sometimes i'm full of mazy bomb blasts
and crazy contrasts…
Now I love animals and their brilliant ways
they brighten the world and add happy to my days,
I could be walking to work in that new spring sun
and spy a cat on a wall and think “ohh, how fun”,
I’ll bound over with a skip and say “hey you, how’s it going,
although it’s bright today your purr has really got things glowing!”
Or in a Saturday beer garden when I’m kicking back with relax
a dog strolls in his owner and my attention is instantly rapt,
I’ll exclaim “ohh, is your pooch friendly, please may I give him a pet?”
If the guy answers in the affirmative I’ll proclaim “hey big doggy I’m so glad we’ve met,
you’re a lovely doggy aren’t you, look at your slobbering face
and the way you wag your tail I think it’s pretty ace!”.
Or I may be having a saunter round the park taking in some stupendous views
and see a stretch of water and decide to have a peruse,
as I get closer I think “oh I can’t believe my luck
look at that raft of lots of lovely ducks!”.
So I nip to the shop round the corner and buy a loaf of bread
and think “ohh you top paddling guys you’re gonna get real fed!”!
So I chuck plentiful crumbs in the water making sure they all get their fill
of some luscious Warburtons down their chomping bill.
I do love other creatures though not just the ones who go meow, woof and quack,
even the tiny ones who fur and feathers they lack;
I could watch a ladybird for ten minutes and be allured by it’s spots
and then be wary around those minuscule red mites that look like little dots,
ensuring that I always check before I sit on a summer wall
so my plonking down doesn’t squash them all.
Or if I’m walking home down a dark passage way on a rainy night
i’ll get my phone out and use it’s shiny light
to see if there are any snails that have come out from under a bush
so I can daintily skip around them and avoid that awful shell crush.
As for spiders and moths in the house I never **** them I always put them out
And then do a Usain Bolt stance in the living room with a “I love you insects” pout.
However one Thursday when I was off work on a day in lieu
and thought “ahh I’ll venture out as the sky is blue,
I can have a wander with some music and then go see Mum and Dad
but before I do all that there is a shower to be had.”
I stroll into the bathroom anticipating a lovely clean
but am greeted by a sight that is less than serene,
walking on the ceramics are about 14 microscopic flies,
I had to squint to view them, they were almost invisible to the naked eye.
I mused “hmm, how am I gonna solve this they are too flimsy to catch and put outside,
and what receptacle could I place them in to take on freedom’s ride?”
As I’m deciding what to do I see more of them coming out of a hole in the tile
and I say “look guys me you’re beginning to rile”,
then I glance some Dettol wipes lying next to my tooth brush
and in a instance obliterate the flies with a sweeping rush,
I chuck the death tissue in the bin and feel a swell of guilt,
“I thought of more understanding stuff I was surely built,
I got rid of them without compunction because they were disrupting my aqua blast
I hope this killing streak doesn’t last.”
Post shower I’m feeling better and believe my murderous bent has gone away far
pop my ear phones in, crank up the volume and saunter round to see Ma and Pa,
but it won’t just be Mum and Dad I’ll be pleased to see when my feet land on their welcome mat,
it will also be lovely Poppet the cat!
I like Poppet loads, she’s my whiskered friend
all my love to her I always send,
her wild meowing tones are one of my favourite sounds
it’s awesomely brill to have her around,
sometimes when I’m drunk her name slips off my tongue,
that’s how I know we defiantly belong,
I can be gleefully inebriated at a festival
and I’ll just say “Poppet!” and feel more happy full,
Pops Popsicle Poppet, I adore your tabby chest,
ahh Poppet, you’re simply the best!
I get to my parent’s house, call her and she comes running with that bounding feline whizz,
and I exclaim with joy, “ahh, there she is!”,
I give her lots of petting and start to feel all catty rich
but then I notice she seems to have a itch,
I say to my Mum, “is Poppet okay, she looks like she’s having too much of a scratch?”
she replies,  “yeah but I think she has fleas that are more than beginning to hatch”,
she continues, “I’ve got some flea treatment though so those little vamps we can quickly dismiss”,
I reply, “nar, it’s okay Mum, I’ll handle this.”
I say to the fleas, “come here guys” and take them and Poppet to one side,
and remark “look today I’ve already committed insecticide
and I really don’t want to do it again but you’re putting Poppet the cat in duress
and she seems distracted rather than purring in my soft strokey caress,
and I don’t want to deliver a ****** bomb of flea killing pollution,
it’s much better to find an amicable solution,
so if you could just jump off her now and end your inhibiting lease
I promise I won’t hover you up I’ll just let you go in peace.”
I give them a few minutes to mull it over but then see Poppet frantically biting her thigh,
“now that is ****** it, no more Mr Nice Guy!
right you little Dracula *****, you’re about to find out what really *****,
it’s being on the receiving end of my “you’re perturbing Poppet” wrath,
you’re about to take a real long Frontline bath!”
Without remorse I dowse them up and that is that,
“bye bye you tiny ******* Vlad The Impaler *****!”  
See I love all the animals, I really have to say,
just don’t cross me on a Thursday,
oh, and I eat meat way more than a bit,
i’m a schizophrenic hypocrite.
Ana S May 2016
Stop your screaming child.
The angel said I have to.
Do you want to go to the promised land?
If you want to enter his kingdom you must be cleansed of sin.
Stop moving.
It will only hurt a second.
You are a sin!
The angel said I must cleanse you!
Moms angel
I... how do I start this?

Okay, I'll just, just get straight in...

I think of nameless things,
Weightless thoughts with withering strings,
Faithful thoughts of my distressed links,
Boneless thoughts now surfacing,
Stressful 9, and He stopped winking,
No two's and no signs and I'm singing,
So here's now what I'm invested in:

I like to sing, I like to write, there's a Sılver ın my mınd,
I also like to talk in rhymes, and keep the meaning behind.
No, I don't talk like this real life.

Just a little sometimes :}

Not so socially smart and strong,
That's why I like to stay between my walls,
It's a lot easier.. being you between ya walls, ya know?

I love to know, but am I capable at all anymore?
Lately I've gotten a little time-out,
And I thought it was a nice life treat (becuase, wow, obviously I've always been a lucky me.)
But now I lost my inner light, n my speed's somewhere at school & sixteen,

And I...hate all these I's... I use too much of those, don't I? sigh

So, well, here's my why: I enjoy writing because inside I'm.. just...

Well.
T.Swifting on my surroundings,
And 'my feelings, all my findings,
Schizophrenic analysis,
Drama addict's falls and lightnings,
A hundred more words off a Draddict,
But they'll fall out where the light's in,
And I struggle to finish my writings,
A quick toggle in the dark, a little change in heart,
This great flow of my voice... sometimes. I have to confess of my heart for the dark.
How did I get to write this section?
And since when do I blend songs & introductions?

My winter infection?

A little more than I should, I'm enjoying this dive down deep to the darkest dark. A little more than a little more than I should.
For the match of my heart with the darkest dark.

My first actual poem. Hope you liked it :)
Just try and hit me with
a car
a fist
or anything worse than
well
I have not been hit recently
Despite skateboarding through traffic
Maybe my tall white anger
is enough to stop
geology itself for one slow moment
Or satan is on my side
Or someone is watching me recklessly
Take on an inertial framer of the references
to all 3 azxisy
I cannot be stopped
from pretending
to be in a private universe
Publicly I may require some protection from
Hitting famously the one thing I have been trying to avoid
Selling Out
well
honesty & arrogances
I have been BOUGHT IN...
******* hell capitalism is over already, illegal is just what they call everyone I am la razing on behalf of *nods*
K Alexys Oct 2015
Was that a dog?
Was it a pair of feet?
Was it real?
Or was it me?

The actors in the show aren't acting,
They're real.
There's no producer no casting,
And I feel,

I feel every thing that happens,
And it's like I'm going through it.
Even when the show ends,
replay and it's like new again.


What was i just doing?

I can't stay still my mind keeps on moving.

am I dead?
Am i alive?
is this my after life?
Can people see me?
Am i here?
i fear nothing but fear.


I cant be alone,
these two will **** each other.
it's hard to have so many personalities
one cant escape another.

papers
clothes
trash
everywhere

my thoughts
my feelings
buried somewhere under there

my voice
is overcome
by more voices
than one

mine is the weakest

schizophrenia is so hard to love.

maybe thats why no one does.

maybe thats why im not wanted.

depressed for a week \
happy for a day
suicidal for 3 years
i just want to go away

i cant control my thoughts
i cant control my actions
i cant help whats wrong

matter of fact who can then?

feels like no one.

medicine and hospitals
i know thats where ill end up
wont be the first time you know.

second,
third,
i really dont even care
i hate it so much on the outside what does it matter if i get locked up there?

mood swings
heavy
so heavy the metal bends

bipolar girl gets worse
she's all ****** up in the head.

i want to **** myself
obviously not enough to have done it
ive tried so many times but every time just wasnt working

pills
syrup
poison
cuts
suffocation
hanging
and i still wont give up

why me why cant i

fly free

like i was supposed to

why must i go through

life being;

so sick and poisoned

im a sweet girl

because of my sickness youd never know it.

it gets worse over time and my mind just keeps on showing.

im forgetting how to spell
where i left my keys
i'm forgetting how i fell
where i left my ID

did i do that
did it happen?
was it a dream?
did i imagine?

whats happening?
what is life?

none of this is real
its all a lie.

i cant help it
twisted mind
i wish i was normal
sickness of mine.
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