Psychotic, neurotic, or just feeling down,
Don’t laugh at me like I’m some kind of clown.
I didn’t ask to get to this place,
The pain inside, now shown on my face.
Life can be so bitter-sweet,
You’re anonymous on that little street.
No one cares, why should they empathize?
Would they notice if one man dies?
You look for a way to keep yourself sane,
Working can help, if it’s not too mundane.
But illness can stop that little pleasure.
Unemployed, I say, “I’m a man of leisure.”
Just when you think you can not cope,
Something will happen that fills you with hope.
Not a miracle, just a simple deed,
Sometimes that’s all a human will need.
I do not condone the use of hard drugs,
I’ve always said those people are mugs.
But now I see, I understand,
The need to escape to some wonderland.
I want you to stop, sit back and think.
Who are these people that do drugs and drink?
They were all people just like you and me,
Psychotic, neurotic, now do you see?
Freestyle poetry. Each stanza is a quatrain and I follow an AABB rhyme scheme.
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