Myself or Someone Like Me

Emotional, hysterical, deranged, sometimes scary

Endless people ignorant,

Or worse,

They’re wary – afraid of the distance between them and I

Contagion, their faces imply.


Red tears stream, slowly, from my limbs

Now accomplished at this self control

Now whole,

The only comfort for my troubled soul;

This hurt is mine and mine alone.


Note to self:

Never reveal workings of mind;

Understanding friends are few,

And hard to find.

Besides, they’ll never understand-

They may perhaps, but not wanting to.


What is madness anyway?


Uniqueness of doing, of being just one

Organic and changing almost constantly

One day waking in dream, to float, dance and fly

On another to contemplate suicide.


Sometimes enlightened, the purest clarity,

Inspired and intuitive, full of creativity;

Sometimes frightened, frosty, cloudy,

Ad tedium

Then flung into the abyss, the black hole.


What if this madness in no tragic curse,

But a beautiful blessing of vision diverse

I’m aware that I don’t see things the same,

But does that decide my being insane?


Seen in another light, each person different by design.

Who could be qualified to judge what is divine?

Hoping that I can change set minds, Of those

Whose intention is to change mine.


What dictates that I am ill?

I make sense to me, I want it to stay.

What if all of those things I say and I do

Are all perfectly normal and your normal untrue?


Come look, come see, what makes I me,

With open mind, opinion-free.

You have now a personal view,

So tell me,

Am I so much different, really, from you?


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