Delusions of the insane

With all the precious I see on the routes
A blessed route I call it
The normals choose to ignore
Free food but they don’t see what I see

Free shelter but they choose to disregard
My bed could be anywhere
My food could be everywhere
Made by anyone

And i am immune to being unwell
Unlike the normals
My heart bleeds in sympathy for them
They know not what they do

Indeed I’m blessed
Who really is insane?
My dirt has become a jest
But my dirt still remains my crest

21 thoughts on “Delusions of the insane

  1. Another very nice poem. Thank you.

    By the way, do you actually mean “Made by anyone” rather than “Made my anyone”? It seems to be a typo.

    Happy November to you!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Aldous Huxley said:

    β€œThe real hopeless victims of mental illness are to be found among those who appear to be most normal. Many of them are normal because they are so well adjusted to our mode of existence, because their human voice has been silenced so early in their lives that they do not even struggle or suffer or develop symptoms as the neurotic does.

    They are normal not in what may be called the absolute sense of the word; they are normal only in relation to a profoundly abnormal society. Their perfect adjustment to that abnormal society is a measure of their mental sickness. These millions of abnormally normal people, living without fuss in a society to which, if they were fully human beings, they ought not to be adjusted.”

    Liked by 1 person

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