"My Little Head"
At night, he sees multi-colored lights.
Never frights, but has his flights.
Life is his fight.
Stars blind his bright darkness.
Shadows in his skies light up night skies.
There's something to be said for this little head.
He's alive, yet knows many who are dead.
He's still listening to what they said.
He'd rather be himself instead.
Life to him is not heard but read.
He stays well fed.
Is comfortable in his mind's bed full of lead on his meds.
j.billet's 10/18/11
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