It Hurts Like BUTTERFLY

The pain is like a sabre to my lower spine. I walk as upright as possible so that no one will see and diagnose me psychiatricly for a spinal injury. When the ambulances arrive they funnel me into the chambers of criminally insane individuals. I know this, I feel that. My rights have never mattered. My pain is the folly of everybody who has ever been in my vicinity. Maybe West can meet East today and the medicine can be REAL, not just an analogy. The crazy can then be put on all of YOU and I can be free to be me soon, even publicly.