Psychiatry Is The Winner Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

The screen glows bright, a dizzy spin,
Of tales not true, where lies begin.
They say the news is bent and broke,
Each story's thread, a twisted stroke.

'Dead men' lead, the whispers claim,
While foes are friends, a hidden game.
The world's adrift, a burning ship,
With captains lost, and loosened grip.

We line up long, at doors of mind,
To mend the cracks, that we can't find.
We boast of brains, a clever race,
Yet stumble blind, from place to place.

Healers sought for troubled minds,
In crowded halls, where solace hides.
We boast of brains, a clever race,
Yet stumble blind, in this mad chase.

A drunkard sleeps, in cold and rain,
His simple truth, a clearer strain.
Than polished words, and power's hold,
A chilling thought, as stories unfold.

This is the world, we seem to choose,
A dizzying spin, where everyone loses.