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AN ODE His pants are torn and tattered He is one of the walking wounded (although he doesn’t think so) His ultimate pleasure is smoking …one lit from another His fingernails are dirty and, his fingers are burnt yellow and black There is a smile readily on his face when you approach “I’m not crazy you know” he says with all sincerity A once brilliant man is locked inside ravaged by disease A most insidious disease that drugs only manage to control So, there he sits at the outdoor café Watching Remembering perhaps of a life gone by of a life which he’ll never get back There is no hope save his dignity Rock on John! |
Additional Notes:
John suffers from Schizophrenia. He is one of my patients.
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