don’t let the trees bloom green again
while I lie drugged and still in bed
don’t let the world explode with color
while I see only gray and white
don’t let the lovers laugh below my window late at night
while I lie senses numbed alone in bed afraid
don’t let the scented breezes blow through everyone’s hair but mine
don’t let the birds of evening sing,
and reach my ears but not my mind
don’t let another summer come
for everyone but me
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Mad in America hosts blogs by a diverse group of writers. These posts are designed to serve as a public forum for a discussion—broadly speaking—of psychiatry and its treatments. The opinions expressed are the writers’ own.
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