Schizophrenic Guy

Half a century etched, a mind in two, One foot in reality, the other dipped in blue. Schizophrenia's grip, a constant, chilling hum, Yet through the cracks of chaos, optimism will come.

Wrinkles trace a life of battles fought and scars, Victories in whispers, celebrated in the stars. Medications dull the edge, a haze upon the scene, But hope, a flickering ember, burns ever bright, serene.

He walks the Copenhagen streets, a symphony of sound, Voices whisper secrets, where none can be found. But amidst the cacophony, a melody takes flight, A future yet unwritten, bathed in golden light.

For even fractured minds can dream of what may be, Of gardens filled with laughter, and hearts set eternally free. So let him chase the whispers, with a smile upon his face, For in the land of madness, hope holds its sacred space.