By Ken Simmons
Lost in a world all my own,
unable to find my way home.
It all began one perilous night,
where reality was lost from my sight.
Lost to the people, I once had known,
and left me wandering around all alone.
Alone in my mind, except for my dreams,
where delusions and fantasies come in reams.
Lost to myself, most of the time,
where reality now only appears sublime.
A reality I can no longer know for sure,
where psychotherapy seems the only cure.
Lost from the way I used to be,
with only memories of† a mind once free.
Free from the nightmares of my sleep,
that cause my heart and soul to weep.
Lost is the way I used to think,
as for my sanity, I stand on the brink.
The brink of a chasm, so deep and wide,
where from my thoughts I canít seem to hide.
Lost is the reality that I once knew,
where people were real and my thoughts were true,
Thoughts that once guided me along my way,
and helped me understand the people in my day.
Lost to me are most all of these things,
where now all I know is what confusion brings.
Confusion that ties up the thoughts in my mind,
where only my hope is left, that to me is kind.
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