There once was a woman who had paranoia.
She was as old as a Brazil sequoia.
She went down the Amazon river
And her smile didn’t as little as quiver
When she saw up the tree all those copies of Goya.
There once was a painter Van Gogh
He was a great demagogue.
Whenever he’d speak
They’d see he’s a freak
So he drank lots of grog.
There once was a fat shrink
Who didn’t as little as blink
As his client’s psyche dissolved
When all his sins got absolved
And his memories started to stink.
A dissociative disorder
Is like being too much a hoarder.
Piling things that aren’t together
In a big and comfy cushion
Made of cotton wool or feather.
Birds of a feather
Are flocking together
Whether the weather
Permits it or nether.
If you can’t associate,
Then you will dissociate.
A bird from its feather,
A cow from leather,
The sunlight from weather.
But what if you tether?
Take a cord and make a lasso,
Tie a singer to his basso,
Tie its feather to the bird
And a shepherd to the herd.