August 31, 2007

The prankster who is playing poker... - poem

The spirit must be brought under control
By uniting the self from pole to pole
When life is made into an act
Or reality is made too abstract
The inner self splits into sections
And affections turn into rejections
The start of this illness lies in denial
Of what is true or what you must dial
The mind will split itself in layers
Hypocrisy takes over all your prayers

In the extreme your life becomes artificial
The content of expressions merely labial
You play that you
are you are you
But who are you?
What is true?

Over time a crack appears in your mind
You become a person of more than one kind
You cannot anymore uphold the appearance
Society does not give you clearance
You did become the joker
The prankster who is playing poker
Gambling with the cards in your hand
You lose control over where you will land

The creepy spirits can now take possession
For them each day is a new session
Of abusing you in your schizophrenia
Or scaring you in nightly insomnia
The best actors still manage to play
People around them think they are so gay
In reality their heart became a cellar dark
On their forehead engraved the beast's mark

When you wish to enter the spirits' dimension
You have to make victory over each kind of tension
That could be found deep in your mind
And that has taken your life in bind


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