The dark skies of the night are a canvas on which I paint my dreams and imagine us together.

Guarded we were kept in rooms like cages
It felt like prison cells for us to cave in
Screams burning our throats and lungs with spit stumbling out of our tongues in which burned like hell
The constant reminders that it's suppose to heal and help
But medicated up we were and I don't call that any sort of help
Lab rats we were the test
Pills and pills pour out over and over again
Our rooms guarded at night with little freedom we were locked in
And when we were allowed out we were constantly mistreated
For me I was misdiagnosed not once but several times which made me feel so defeated
After a while my mind went bleak and I lost track of time
Day in and day out everyday felt the same and I couldn't break the endless cycle it was a strain  
And being said everyday felt like a constant struggle to get "better"
But how can you get better when you're inside locked not able to see the nice summery weather
From what I remember my roommate clawed the walls like there were chains and shackles on his hands
He tore open his knuckles trying to break free but there was no escaping so we laid in our beds hopelessly
When it came time of night I got to call home I was high
The pills they had me on were not right
So I slowly broke down in my mind
A place to help one heal but it took so much time
I was scared shitless worried that I was finally out of my mind
Because I knew I was not in the right state of mind
One bad slip could have cost me my life
But when I was sent here it was all a lie
My mom told me I was seeing a new therapist, but here I lay institutionalized
The unfortunate Bipolar chaotic mind of mine
Once I was set free I thought I felt fine but
Weeks later sadness and depression yet again overcame me
Some pills and whiskey tried to take me away to heaven which I'll see some other day maybe?
That's when I sent myself back to actually try and learn something this time around I wanted to find my solid ground
At first it was hard because me and the guards watching us all didn't get along  
When I tried helping others there I was shamed for it as if it was wrong
How wrong can it be helping those who hurt and are helplessly unhappy like me
The guards were always pretending they didn't see a **** thing
People cried and screamed on their knees, snorting pills, and cutting themselves with anything they could reach
So broken so reckless so helpless one should pity
When we sat and discussed things in group therapy we were judged and mistreated
But I myself came to learn and grow
So from broken fragments I was able to rise which did feel better than getting high with the people I once called friends that after all this left my side
I didn't let things get to me I sat I listened I spoke dearly
The bullying of others didn't help me along, but I knew I'd get out sooner if I was nice and acted happy and didn't play and edge them along
There were constant fights which I had to split up
Some of the others didn't seem to care nor give a ****
But luckily for me and the few friends I made we worked together to better ourselves and get out of this place we found to be so ******
With the right state of minds we surly flew out of the cages we all grew
One by one we were set free
Hopeless birds we used to be

I do not smoke because I am addicted, as the smoke begins to make me choke
I began smoking because the smoke fills my lungs, allowing me to feel like I'm breathing something besides this sadness, it fills all the empty holes in my soul that you put there.