She can't stop the screaming.
The earsplitting shrieks become
too much for her to bear; so she
begins to rip out her imperfect hair.
Her eyes begin to roll, manic laughter
begins. Her fingernails now caked with
cement and concrete, scratching and
scratching; now the blood's on her feet.
Would you like a Zoloft tonic to replace
that Scotch? Sleep it off hun, kick those
meds up a notch. Annie, Annie when will
you learn? Aren't you sick of the voices?
Don't you want a turn? I can make it silent
Annie, I can make it stop. Listen to me before
you give your head one more bop. Take your
meds, don't skip em'; that's your last warning.
Get a good night sleep, and call me in the morning.