LOST IN THE MAZE: A Poem about Mental Illness

Lost in the Maze

The mind of the girl

We saw was a maze:

Unbalanced, out-of-touch,

Schizoid haze.

Then she was me

And I was the rat

Learning the maze:

A mind like that.

We studied her thoughts.

We looked at her past.

We took copious notes,

From onset to last.

I took their pills

To offset the pain

Still, my mind was a haze,

And I hated my brain.

She was a good study,

An excellent case:

Schizo-Affective Disorder

At a rabid pace.

I stared at nothing;

It was easiest to do.

I stopped calling friends,

Said I had the flu.

She says she is dying,

Classic symptom, that!

She says there are voices,

And something about a rat.

The maze gets worse

The older I get.

Someday, I'll get lost,

And make the rat my pet.

We take our notes,

And study her kind.

We're very interested

In her set of mind.

Lonely it is

To be sick in your head.

Day after day: lonely;

Stuck to my bed.

We try all the drugs,

And note her progress

Watch for dyskenesia

And signs of distress.

I know All the pills,

Risperdol and Abilify,

Supposed to give me hope;

Instead, I want to die.

It's funny, she said one day:

You're killing my rat.

We thought and thought,

And tried to understand that.

I am lost in the maze,

Gave up hope for wellness.

The rat finally died,

Of exhaustion and Hellness.

I hope this poem helps you understand mental illness a bit better.

Blessings,

Jai