Here in the Aftermath (No-One Writes "Psych-Ward" in Their Five-Year Plan)

Taking stock photos, taking tally, viewing stroboscope

Defining our terms, and engaging our senses

Probing for boundaries, Wilson Pickett fences

Determining bases, what flavor reality?

Connect common parlance to discover what's left of me

Defining an entity subject to time

As if motion, erratic, conforms to a line

The starting point: then, recalled through to now

Three previous perspectives. I've taken a vow

To complete this proceeding, and where it is leading

I haven't the foggiest; I hope it's revealing

If the aim is forgiveness, then it's my mercy granted

While others freaked out, this freak I offended

The journey's goal: beings boon I intended

But anger and sickness and heartache resulted

I bore the brunt of breakdown and psychosis

Left me shattered in psyche, in body, limp, listless

To whom could I possibly carry a grudge?

Self-inflicted afflictions are mine to be judged

Am I guilty of injury? Or is medicine to blame?

I cannot imagine a party in name

Who, having the details of what's since occurred

Would repeat the actions of scarring incurred

If no-one's to blame, there's no-one to forgive

Metaphysics aside, I'm just left to live