Psychotic, neurotic.
Something wrong with the brain.
Poor girl.
I think we need a doctor.
And not the kinds that performs surgery.
The head shrink.
Hey don't blink.
Don't think.
Don't contemplate.
What do you mean?
See that bed there with straps?
That where you will be soon shaking and convulsing.
Let me be free so I can kill myself or others.
Most certainly we will get right on that.
As soon as you can provide us with the proper key and authority.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem