Hell Has White Walls (Edited)

The doors are locked tight,
lights a blinding white.
Screams echo down the
sanitized white hallway.

Dignity is stripped, 
tossed in the corner
with all possessions.
Their hands are ice cold,
searching every revealed crevice
because rights were left at the door.

Red is forced upon my body,
dehumanizing those alive on the 
outside, but drugged into oblivion.
I am no longer an individual,
a shell of my former self.

Bathing is scrutinized,
spied on, waiting for you to fuck up.
Eat every bite of food,
if you don't, time is lengthened.
You are anorexic.
Beds are put up for display,
but when night comes you
are forced side by side in the lobby.
The floor is now my bed.
Greed waits for any sign 
of damnation, pens poised,
waiting make it permanent.

They talk with sticky sweet
voices, dripping with honey.
Behind soundproof glass, they
speak words injected with venom.
Chains are locked to your feet,
wrapped around your tongue.
Cruel eyes peer through the glass
that separates the sane from the not.
When they emerge from behind they 
check your body for the forbidden,
your mind for the unthinkable.

My scars shine silver-white in the
unforgiving florescent light.
My eyes see the ugly they tell me I am.

Seventy-two hours have passed,
freedom is within reach.
Fate is sealed by the bloody words
written by the leader of demons.