Unwell

they say she’s crazy
they say she’s mad
“stay away from that lady”
they say she’s bad

she sees things no one else does,
hears strange voices;
louder than a hush

–
her very eyes give shape to fear
her soul- naked…
in caskets of her tears

–
she keeps seeing corpses
wandering in streets
lurking… lurking… haunting deep

–
“take your medicine” urged his father
“don’t let this pain devour you;
no more no further”

–
“no”– she refuses…
gritted teeth and clenched fists,
“no, papa” she refuses…

“Cause if I get better-
If I get better…
I’ll miss you.”

You see…
she… is not crazy
she… is not mad
she’s just a loving lady
and she… isn’t bad

“She’s just…
unwell.”

Author: Pandamonium