Will psychosis strike Again?
Will I be able to escape it’s grasp?
Will it destroy me?

Why only Whispers?
Why are the shadows playing hide and seek?

Only strangers,
Hooded figures,

They don’t speak,
Only following me,
Everywhere I go,


All these questions lingering in my mind,
Most people would consider me unwell,

What do you see?

Maybe a Schizo,
Waiting for his clock to expire,
During the day I teach,
Empty seats not empty,

Filled by hollowed out corpses,

Black eye shadow smudged,
Lip stick smeared,
Ripped clothes,
Messy hair,
Perfectly shaped neck to shoulder ratio,
Followed by the top button – unbuttoned,

I am fighting myself,
Throughout the day,
Trying to talk myself into Insanity,

Appearing before me,
Standing in the way,
A Zombie hoard,
Murderous clowns in every corner,

Inwardly awkward,
Outwardly not alright,


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