He shakes his head, Rolls on his bed, Speaks gibberish With eyes deep red. He fights and kicks, He shouts and spits, And makes his family Lose their wits. With hair unkept, Mood, not his best He lives his life A real test. He's labelled 'mad' Inside he's sad, No one knows him Nor understands. Alas, we call ourselves human And yet what do we see We're totally numb to those desperate Whose lives we do not feel. He's crying out, oh! don't you know He's longing to be near To anyone who'll love him And want to call him 'dear'. So heed his call and do not tarry Although with him there's cause for worry. Or only when we're in his shoes We'll understand the schizo news.