My f wrote this poem and i think it really explains the reality of one who has mental illness...
People are strange, will they every change?
Hiding in the corner, I have lost my power
The walls are white, and the lights are bright
Being tied up, but what have I done?
Memory, The only enemy
I'm losing him finally
Two clocks are ticking
My head's aching
Here he comes again
Whispering, "That’s the end"
Point it right there, to make my life fair
To live is to die, I choose not to try