Doctor, doctor, you don’t understand:
I can’t accept a helping hand,
While my arms are tied behind my back.
Every day I clench to break free,
I try to pull; but I’m an amputee,
Lungs tighten, anxiety attack.
Doctor, doctor, do you have medicine?
Some sweeties to ease this infection,
I can wash it down with a Naggin;
Propose a toast to the memory
Of fanciful days of reverie!
So I can writhe within this sin.
Doctor, doctor, who is this within me?
A forlorn stranger, disturbed escapee,
Clawing at my internal structures.
He’s gone and shorted the circuit,
With no light I become a hermit,
My clown face becomes a fracture.
Doctor, doctor, did you miss the bus?
Now swear you won’t kick up a fuss,
But I didn’t want the bus to miss me.
I fell in to the road, frozen still,
I wanted to stay, feel the thrill,
Be knocked in to sorrowful debris.
Doctor, doctor, can you tell me why?
Why, oh why, do I always cry?
Even my oxygen is depressed.
I breathe misery and despair,
I try to fight, but it’s not fair!
Mentally ill? I can’t digest.
Doctor, doctor, take a look inside;
I’m an open book, I cannot hide,
Can you see my scaly demon?
Its tainted claws wrapped around my throat,
Dribbling seepage on my suicide note,
The crack in my disposition deepens.
Doctor, doctor, you are hereby dismissed,
I insist you desist; take me off your list,
Don’t waste time on an immedicable.
I am mistaken; you cannot help me,
I will rise from my knees, silence my pleas,
Curse the fact my mind is incurable.
Created: 21st October 2014