Someone is out to get me, I thought;

Murmurs and whispers, I hear them a lot.

Something keeps creeping under my skin,

Even the roses smell like a rotten rat!

My mom and dad visit me often;

Whether it's spring or autumn!

Am perplexed at their existence,

Those burning pyres, I haven't yet forgotten!

Two poles reside in me, told am I;

Either euphoria or anhedonia.

Do lunar phases manage me?

Then why this phantasmagoria!

Then the healer tells me it's incurable!

 Should I really want a cure if I am Fully Able!