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Schizophrenic Dolls


Its blinking button eyes Lashes Plucked Clean conscience lies Demons of possess Its ragged red dress Hides in the shadows; tireless Awakened by the silver moon Loom through loom Its loose thread Severed head It's all in my head It's all in my head Through ears, they're banshee cries Their painted pink lips A poisoned kiss Under my bed It's all in my head White pills smothered Vertigo claims the soul uncovered Pulse simmers in veins Its cotton heart of lead Hung over my bed It's all in my head Needle point sharpened Eyes stitched shut Teeth sunk in Glass shards split the sternum Stuffed with goat shed It's all in my head Scalding iron compressed to chest Struggles consumes The shrink in size Full of dread It's all in my head Sunken sand A hopeless hand Words unsaid It's all in my head Something inside Buried alive Face down Tips up Left for dead In an unknown bed It's all in my head It's all in my head Its all in my..... It's all.... It's.... ..........
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Comments (1)

Shalala234
I know this poem can seem confusing. But basically I am the subject and I wake up in a fitful nightmare caused by prescription drugs to help schizophrenia. My childhood dolls in my room come to life like zombies and slowly, painfully transform me into one of them. I can only struggle so much but the pills keep me tranquilized. Then upon finishing they drag me to my grave where I lay lifeless and slowly start to lose everything that made me human. The underlining story is the superficiality of models and becoming apart of society's plastic dolls in order to be considered "beautiful" and in the process losing all individuality.

Comments are closed for this poem.