poem

Roses are red

Violets are blue

I am schizophrenic

and so am I

and now for the real poem...

The sun comes up over the trees.

Gently coming over the trees.

My thoughts float through the wind like a feather.

Bouncing from idea to idea as a stick in the stream.

It's quiet, silent as a thought.

I find solace in the silence of the water.

The over whelming sense of tranquility embraces my soul.

The clean crisp air floods my lungs.

I close my eyes.

Losing myself in the silence.

Peace.

Heaven is here.