The Schizophrenic

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They chat, blabber, and sing
Sometimes louder than I can bear
I dread the visions they plan to bring
But they fall silent, when I begin to care
They see my world like my third eye
But tie me down, when I twist and turn
I speak morbid words as you pass me by
When I feel death in this daily churn
What’s good what’s bad, Iam neither
My life and words are not mine either
They belong to friends; in my mind they hide
Listen, Here Iam, I speak, can’t you see?
Or the listener in you is dead inside?
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