July 13, 2011
By Anonymous

A trip to schizophrenia
in Marion, Ohio--
Did I sing the family's trait in lieu
of wholesome, lovely cry-outs?

A whole house aired with dust
and dark twilight at every hour,
there was a mountain-- tall as rust
that made me feel a coward.

There were cans and cans on
tiled floor? More dust and dirt
on towels. As a child, I clutched my teddy
bear, while inside I lost
some vowels.

The author's comments:
This is a mix of the influence of both of my family sides: the controlling aspects of my mother's tactics, and the strange, abnormalities from my dad's side. Here, I am describing a trip to visiting my schizophrenic aunt and [mentally] sick grandmother when I was around five. Some of the feeling may be feeling from my current life, so the situation might not be accurate. But I like it, to say the least.

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