They say I'm crazy,
(Those foolish, stupid doctors)
But I'm not. It's
Him, the other one
Who lives in this room with me.
He's the one who cries and wails
And hides from me.
But I know he's here,
I have seen the bright drops
Of crimson blood dripping from the glass
He broke. Glass, still warm,
From that crazed man's touch.
His cries wake me and
I find the tatters of his flesh
Hanging from the leather restraining straps
He gnawed through
And then draped on me as I slept.
Again.
They mock me
As I wrap myself up
Into two tight, tiny balls.
Laughing as they
Tell me twice or three times
That I live in a one man cell
No one can reach me there.
But he's here
Hiding from me.
And I wait-
Trembling in fear.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem