The Psychologist

In the abyss of the past
The man’s life has come to last,
Tormented, I wanted to see
So anguished, he reached for me:

“To move this time without will
Is there not a word or a pill?
I ask you to show me the way
My mind breaks, I hear it say:

‘You are one that fears its fate
Fear to move, fear to be great
Circle the eye with answers lost
Live the life of emotion’s cost’”

Schizophrenic and lost of reason,
I record the notes of his treason
Something is not right with his brain,
I see this man is clinically insane.

About the poet/painter