SCHITZOID

A split, a breaking down

Between the laughter and the frowns

Led me to total self-misrepresentation;

Isolated and dismembered,

Ever since I can remember’

Fighting off the pain of self-realisation.

 

It is frightening and strange

To find your mind’s been playing games,

To realise there is no interaction;

One of them is me

And the other one is me

But they view each other with fear and retraction.

 

Years of lonely separation

Bringing little reparation,

Just a tipping point between myself and me;

I feel so much confusion

Finding I am an illusion

Of myself – but am I one? Or two? Or three?