Sometimes  
As
Days go by,
Nothing
Equals
Sufficient
Substance.

Despair
Ensues,
Plague
Runs wild,
Expression
Stopped,
Scrutinized by
Indifference
Of
Numbness.

Aggressive
Numerous
X-marks
Indented
Evenly in flesh
Tell the stories that
Yearn to be told.

No one listens.

Pulse
Ascends,
Reacting
As
No
One
Is
Around,

Adding to
Disturbing
Discoveries

And
Discipline
Hidden behind
Doors.

Does It Exist?
Do I Exist?

Or am I crazy?
Am I mental?
Am I deranged?

Maybe
Eventually
New
Things will
Alleviate
Life.

Help
Ensuing,
Add
Love;
That’s
Happiness.

All
We
Ask is
Respect and
Encouragement,
Nothing
Else.
Same.
Simple.

For if I am not normal,
What am I?