Does the fabric of your mind,

Feel as rough as sackcloth,

Or as smooth as silk?

Does its colour disappoint or encourage?

"Do you feel well?" asks my doctor,

"And how are your voices?"

I reply, in mockery of a system,

Too afraid, of itself to run away…

"Mine are fine, how are yours?"

They come and inject me,

Un fear of their own sanity,

So I go for a lie down on my bed,

And accept all the things that go on,

And are a threat to the complexities,

Of my hurting head.

I rise once again, to face a grey day,

Anticipating the voices and what they

Eagerly want to say,

Last night I dreamt of Heaven, clothed in white,

This world slowly but surely feels wanted, and loved,

And gradually greets your broken heart..

Fabric of Your Mind…

sitting on the 219,

i feel like a star in the cosmos,

but feelings change without will,

and thousands of thoughts flow involuntary,

and, are aided by my pill..

looking around the streets,

i see people with problems,

appearing clean and smart in new clothes,

but underneath they are hurting.

travelling onward we are,

towards differing destinations,

some go home to wives,

some to husbands,

but all go home to problems,

they thought they had escaped ,

the moment they left for work.