There was something about the woman's face,
as she slowly wheeled her cart down the street.
She talked to someone only she could see,
getting curious looks from those that she'd meet.
The clothes that she wore were ragged, unclean,
her worn second hand shoes were missing their laces.
Her sad brown eyes had a far away look,
recent tears on her face,down her cheeks had left traces.
Who did she talk to and what did she see?
How she acted did not scare me at all.
Someone I love is affected the same,
schizophrenia is what caused her to fall.
My heart ached for her and what she had lost,
The life she now lives in her head, ruled by voices.
Living in the street, with no one to care,
limited in her life and her choices.
Sadly, my son struggles all of the time,
the voices, in his head they hold sway.
But he has family who loves and protects,
the woman suffers alone everyday.
Mental illness takes away normal life,
affecting all, including family.
My heart goes out to those minds that are fraught
with doubt and fear, they will never be free.
There was something about the woman's face,
as she slowly wheeled her cart down the street.
She talks to someone only she can see,
as she looks around for a place she can sleep.
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