deepundergroundpoetry.com

asylum

sitting in that padded room
the light is swinging around
sitting in the middle
looking at the ground

the claps on the straight jacket
are tight and love to scratch
blood drips from neck and wrist
where skin ripped from the latch

low laughter is herd
from a smiling face
twisting squirming try to get out
try to leave the dark place

doctors come
begin to stare
get the needle ready
theres no chance for repair...
Written by pure_emo117
Published
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