Emeka GOC

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Recovery Poetry

I speak for my friend
Who has lost all his friends.
They are not aware of his plights
His fights, fear of flight
Still, they are his friends
This is the new trends of friends.


'I know I miss it sometimes
I cannot always recount all the lines
Recognising who I am now
Makes me feel uncomfortably sick. Stereotyped by a doctors pen
Stamped schizophrenic, a disorder
By a doctor, who knew not, one to ten,
Who knew nothing, of disorders that make up, to be schizophrenic even now.


But I know my weakness
That could be my sweetness
I know my vulnerabilities
Still I some real abilities.

Letting people to me unverified
They do things that leave me unsatisfied

Then I kick them out violently
Cos, I have no room for Betrayals
I cannot come to present portrayals
Cos, they violated me silently.
Do I have to run inside me?

Now, I have found an apian way
To escape their diabolical sneears
No isolation, no depression no anxeity
I have no plan to disappear
But to live, larger than life in my society.'

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