O give me in a shrink the god who rolled Ra
across the heavenly sky each day from dawn,
making everything seem so fresh and young
beneath the blessed path of our blazing star
that no one could greet a new day and yawn –
a dung beetle pushing a pristine ball of dung!
***
A poem desperately against being served the same old shit.
I’m a middle aged Australian pensioner who for the last 20 years has been forced to deal with a mostly wrong diagnosis of schizophrenia as an involuntary patient.
***
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