Those grey doors, how when washed away with colour they appeal to the insane.
A dull nothingness, that helps bind the soul to nothing, another ant in the hill of dirt.

Those grey doors, where I found out that you can be reduced to nothing, back to the purity of an animal.

Kicking and screaming, bound and chained testing which pills work with what needles to bring me down.
While he cries out to a merciless God.
And he watches laughing through those grey doors.

Of course to the Gods pity is the lowest of emotions. A dreadful sin, to want to be pitied.
While they test and write notes on their clipboards on Gods image.
a nobody.
a no one.  
A soulless creature to be beat down, for his own good.
and left to soil himself in a comfy hospital stretcher bed.

Of course it was necessary, but I wonder what it would be like to go back through those grey doors.
or the black door which offers so much promise.