Through the Eyes of the Mad

August 8, 2022

A raindrop indoors. Then a sharp sound. No one else flinches. Then I started seeing people, hearing voices. All unfamiliar. They’re not from my mind but another world.
  People draw back from my mutterings. Perhaps I’m the one drawing back. Reality and hallucination blur together.
  I slipped into the other world. My mum’s blond. My dad’s dead. I’m middle-aged. They say it’s a miracle, delusional for years then cured.
  But, Mama’s black. Papa’s alive. I’m a teenager.
  In and out. White walls, an American home. Two therapists’ rooms. Two white walls. I turn the white red. I’m not mad.  

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