Can you hear them voices?
That only i can hear?
Whispering Warnings,
Feeling My soul up with fear.

It's hard to be lonely,
When you can hear,
Its like they are roaring,
In my ears.

I'm tired of them coming,
Oh how they just appear,
Mumblings emerging,
They will never disappear.

They act like they know me,
I try to flee,
Wanting to destroy me,
Their all i see..

Wouldn't wish this on Nobody,
Them spying on me.
My brain is lying,
Is this real or a dream?

Schizoaffective bipolar type is hell’s disorder.
It is a whirlwind of the curious mind.
A fusion of emotions, brick by boring brick.
Thoughts askew and twisted like twigs.  

Mania, depression, and psychosis sleep together.
Producing a break out of pandemonium.
Exulting energy, dejection, and voices taunt.
A battle within that seems to haunt.

Medication and therapy, tools of aid.
Will tackle hell’s disorder and put it in Pandora's box.
Be wary and do not open it no matter what.
Or the symptoms will crawl over every inch of your skin.

Put the pain in the past because you can still live your life.
You can work a 9 to 5, go on hikes, travel, and ride a bike.
What is something you look forward to? They always ask.
I sigh and answer: freedom.

Our souls are not whole,

they are split, in other words --


they're schizophrenic.

Run
Run
Run
Run
But I'm a creep
I'm a ******
What the hell am i doing here?
I don't belong here

"There's something wrong with the waters Mr Goethe
It feels like yesterday was spring
Now it's time, it's mere time
Till the frogs hop around
Gosh god does play dice with the world
Or else how have you found Ms Goethe and that jolly girl of yours
Oh ****** me, how is she?"

"She's fine, she's dust"

"It's almost like I didn't get to meet her when she was around
For the employee party
Tell me what is she wearing so heavy that she can't move once"

"Oh no barely dirt, i shot her dead and my child"

"Oh look the frogs are here near this meadow"

Run
Run
Run
Run

I kept thinking that was me
But that wasn’t me
That wasn’t me
Who was I then
If that wasn’t me

I couldn’t comprehend
I couldn’t come to terms

It felt so real, all the thoughts
All the imagination, it felt like me

But it wasn’t me

What if the voices I hear are from God?
Then I am Satan, and we’ll stay at war.
I’ll strike him so with my ruby rod.
And impale him down into the earth’s core.

What if the voices I hear are from space?
I’m an alien with horns and a spot.
No one believes these voices are my race.
They do comment and understand my thoughts.

What if the voices I hear are man-made?
I shall sail the seas like Columbus–
through the stormy nights where I greet afraid.
I’ll find the land this man encompasses.

And I’ll ask him why he made me this way.
Does this mean I’m special– brought to a curse?
These voices persecute me every day.
They have become the air that I breathe.

My mind is louder than New York City.
I tell it to shut up, and it’ll yell back.
I tell my story. Some say I’m gritty.
How can I be brave? I let them do this.

My mind dominates until I have none.
Some of them complain more than my grandma.
Voices play games with me till it’s no fun.
They nibble parts of my brain, and they gnaw.

Oh, voices, voices, why do you taunt me?
It is amusing. I don’t let others bully.
I let my mind become the enemy.
**** these voices! You have already won, you, see?

I watched “A Beautiful Mind” by John Nash.
How can this mind be beautiful when it’s all gone?
I do draw what I see throughout the day.
I realized these figures took my mind away.