You
question me and my evil grin
felt
like an infection under your skin
you
tried to scrub me off, dig me out
the
cure was simple admit your doubt
But
being stubborn you don't agree
now
if you do there's no guarantee
the
deals off and your world's in a spin
Spinning,
feeding the chaos within
it's
your prisoner, your detainee
whatever
you do don't let it free
It's
a queer thing we don't talk about
keep
your voice quiet try not to shout
I
will never again feel chagrin
I've
a feeling the disease will win
Struggled
to keep at bay the chagrin
refuse
to give up and let it win
forgot
what I was writing about
I
ground my teeth so I wouldn't shout
I'm
the warden and the detainee
my
own captive never to be free
locked
in my mind somewhere deep within
What
I deal with would make your head spin
ask
those that have been, sure they'd agree
If
they can talk, there's no guarantee
came
in with sanity left without
touch
of insanity I've no doubt
You
can't tell as I strip off my skin
I'm
infectious, I say with a grin
Copyright
© 2015 by Patrick B Vince
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