Alone

When those sad
Haggard
Paid professionals, sitting
In their little offices
Tell me
Flat out
I can't do
What I was meant to do
I know they are wrong
About everything else

Why do I listen to fools?
There is no choice
Seemingly, because
I need to prevent a
Relapse to the crazy places
I've often been
And sitting down with licensed folks
Remains the plan

What good are they?
None right now
That I see

But should I falter
And hear the many voices
Getting louder
And more insistent
Then these people that get paid
To listen to my crap
Will certainly come in handy
In deciding when
To put me back in
Spring Harbor Hospital
For my safety

Until then
I know they are full of shit