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On my bookshelf there is a book,

When I am in doubt I take a look.

The other day I looked up the word schizophrenic,

A difficult word heard in a psychiatrist’s clinic.

I took my dictionary in my hand as I often do,

To search for a word that might give me a clue.

Then I found schizophrenic I was in a shock,

It nearly caused my old brain to block.

A split personality it was very clear,

It was a pity that no psychiatrist was near.

He or she could easily in words simple to understand,

Tell me that there are thousands of cases living in this land.

But no I had to use my dictionary to find out,

Am I schizophrenic I have a great doubt?

At the moment I am a person quite happy and clear,

Then my mood changes to one of great fear.

Is it me that writes poetry and verse?

Or is the other just being perverse.

My dictionary is full of knowledge you know,

Not being an expert I am terribly slow.

I would not be without this clever book,

When I am in doubt I just take a look.

by Bernard Shaw

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