The Victim Poem by James McLain

The sky is but the grey of battle ships,
sailing into the eye of god all over again.
P}otemkin spread our brains all over the
clouds..searching for new ones in haste.
The smile that is glued on..the eyes of
a dead fish..there is no market for them now.
The mind once a vast fertile place where
happiness was never taken for granted,
it was, because, no one was bad, all gone.
Depression would be like heaven again,
those black depths have now been taken.
I know my soul has been taken, why leave
this empty shell, like some poor person who
died yesterday from alzheimer's, still waiting.
The doctor asks what happened and the mind
again goes grey, untreated, untreatable, is death.
If they would give me now the mind of they
whom did it I would have some chance at life.
I'm sorry for being born again, how about you.