Under the old Willow tree
Sits a man who is just like me
Telling tales of how he lost his soul
With memories of when he last fell whole
Recollecting the many moments of pain
Which continued to suffocate his brain.

Searing pain that burned so bright
Which he tried to resist with all of his might
Reluctantly, he agreed to take the medication
Once they’d reassured him of no complication
Reliable treatment to repair his mind
Would enable his life to be re-aligned.

Then he began to scream and shout
Hoping to drive the madness out
Yet he was wickedly defeated
By his own mind that then retreated
Into a world of lies and fear
Involuntary voices he would hear.

Under the old Willow tree
Sat a man who was once like me.
Told his stories, and we all cried
Then, taken ill, he sadly died
Nobody knew his name, just his face
I never want to take his place.