She was all alone,
Doing well in school came easy to her.
They took her to a doctor
And made her stick out among peers.
They thought she weird
No one had anything to do with her.
They fixed her
She didn’t stick out anymore.
They still thought she was weird.
Two of them died,
The first at the end of one era
When she was too young to realize
What life does to people;
The second at the beginning of another era
When she was no longer alone.
Then she was accepted.
She was happy, and they cared.
For a while she thought she might be alone again,
But she wouldn’t be again or ever.
She didn’t know that, though.
She was happily confused;
They took her away
Called her crazy,
but made her act like she was sane.
So she stuck out again.
And they did not care.
I had all these tagwords to go along with that poem: manic, psychotic, blah blah but I’ve lost that sheet of paper.
It’s happening again, but I’m on medication. So now it’s a waiting game to see how bad it gets.