Exposed through fear and with clinical detachment it's scalpel.
While an array of emotions can lay siege and how you dictate.
Being out with the many deigning one bend your mind to our mirror.
When thus it is touched and only by why dry tears storied word.
The end of that memory gives freshness and twists two meanings.
Thorazine can be if you want it to be and bitter holds back it's tongue.
Detached from reality do no harm to your self or your others.
No harm can then come from one mind lost and light kept at sea.
And your body then floats on hope that oceans wave mans asylum.
No stronger than I, too hold onto hell, afforded no mask are you faith.
I am only your psychiatrist when you return, and how do I feel.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem