Paranoid Schizafrinia

One day I walked in my mom's home and she thought I was a stranger.
She looked right at my face and still thought she was in danger.
She said, "Jesus help me, Jesus help me."

I called my dad and said he should come home.
When he walked in he to was unknown.
She said, "Jesus help me, Jesus help me."

Perplexed, we had but one last person to try.
We asked my brother to come by.
He walked in and said, "Mom its me, your son."
She took off down the hall in a run.
She said, "Jesus help me, Jesus help me."

As gently as we could and with as much trust as we could create.
We carried her to the hospital for them to evaluate.
She said, "Jesus help me, Jesus help me."

The news wasn't good, severe paranoid schizophrenia.
She would have to be locked away like a prisoner in another's person's life.
She didn't know she was a mother of two or a wife.

We said our goodbyes as they walked her down the hall.
She said, "Jesus help me, Jesus help me."

It was two weeks before we could go visit.
But all she would do was stare while she set.
She set and looked at us as though she could see through us like we weren't really there.
But at least she didn't seem to be scared.

Her nurse told us they felt their only course was to shock her brain every few days to scramble the thoughts in her head.
She looked like her eyes were open but her body was dead.

Where's my mom?
What had they done?
Would she ever return?
How far would they go and how much mind would they burn?

I found myself saying, "Jesus help my mom, please help my mom."

After twelve weeks we picked up a woman that didn't seem to know if she were alive or dead.
I couldn't help but wonder what they did to her head.

After three weeks we saw a slight improvement.
After four months her body regained normal movements.

They worked on her medicine and eventually she got well.
But that was six months of pure living hell.