Love Poem: Psychiatric War Pigs
Troy Jeremy Nelson Avatar
Written by: Troy Jeremy Nelson

Psychiatric War Pigs

my meds aren't working
depression, boredome, ornery
yet again from your professional viewpoint
i am doing better
now that i'm suicidal and not locked in a cell
for almost being murdered

dial 1 for ddd
i got the achies(8Keys)

might need a higher dose
to fix something that isn't even broken
does anyone leave here sane
as upset as the staff get that their miracle cure is a genocide

what's the problem 
why won't you allow me to tell my story
read any good books lately

I dr, u key
Dial m for murder
whose story is it, mine apparently

about to resort to violence
fight or fleight of your lies
life is too short for this stupidity

walking into the waves
a suicidal honour
the new meaning of life

read any good books lately
copy cat
dead wrong

psychiatric war pigs
are you out for your medal of terrorism
i won't be staying here
i dislike this russian roullette with my doctor
and by the way, you have no balls

won't report a war crime
just a crime spree on the internet
stolen dreams and terrorism
lies of liars lieing about somebody elses lies

no control of my own life
you don't know me at all
bending over backwards to suit you needs
won't be taking place

global amnesty what a joke
the billions raised to end global suffering just so you can buy more bombs

go die
psychiatric war pigs
i won't be here long,
my brother a complete idiot who doesn't listen
the embodiment of love for murder
and i hate you enough to let you know this love i have for you

someone you need to call?
did i just prove to you there is an unholy mastermine
with a good disguise for the gutterball he is?
something you need to say?
something you need to realise
i won't be back. i promise
one foot out the door

between the times
no lieing down during the knight of your life
the fight for your life
dial 1 for ddd
don't care anymore
go die
you disgust me

Why is my freedom revoked because my brother signed me into a hospital
liar covering his own tracks, from a chop shop, involved with bad cops
the black market of knowing too much
euthenised by love
what a whore
i don't love you anymore
something you will never again achieve from me
insulted forever
disgusted
i quiver at your feast
you lust after greed
as if this isn't hell

read any good books lately?
someone you need to call?
isn't there a war crime you need to report
backwards logic of can't run from your problems

go die