25 years and my mind is still ill,
Breaking with the dawn, shaking at noon
Now reaching for a pill
Hoping relief will come soon
Shaking, quaking and waking
With a lump on my mind and a hump on my back
Heading for the institution for the last time
Now I cry, when I lie, strapped to my bed
Screaming what’s going on to the voices
The voices that swim in my head,
With an injection and a great deep breath
The vocalization of my throat has up and left
But yet the screaming, shouting and talking
Remains swimming in my head
Laying tightly bound from my toes to my head
Rubbing sores from the straps across my chest hips and legs
I try and scream what’s going on......
Echoes are silent in the corridors of the living dead
Will the institution bring me resolution?
And fix my head in time for,
With a prayer and a great deep breath
I hope for revolution in the voice full head
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem