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?
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,
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,
Outwardly not alright,