White Walls

Poem from our journal inside the psych ward circa June 2015

As dawn rises again from my window,
and the birds sing their morning call
It’s clear I’m a drifter in my own life,
maybe you were never here at all.

My mind has turned against me,
and I’m in a room with an unlockable door,
inside a white walled hospital, on the only locked floor.

Haunted by voices and shadows we can’t outrun,
we are hidden from the world, separated from loved ones. Whispers no longer heard.

Victims of a common enemy,
we are now essentially owned,
held by a government institution,
our rights are no longer our own.

You even watched me as I showered,
threatening to put electrodes on my brain,
you couldn’t imagine my thoughts,
and you couldn’t feel my pain.

Yet you still tried to control me,
feed me pills until I was numb.
You can’t be a threat to anyone,
when left drugged, immobile and dumb.

My mind has turned against me,
I’m in a room with a padded floor,
inside a white walled hospital,
on the only locked floor.

Surrounded by my peers,
the crazy, depressed and insane,
we are fighting a battle against ourselves,
against our stigma and our shame.

We might be a little lost,
but we’re still people too,
Men, Women, young or old,
one day we may even be you.

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