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Feb 2020
I peep through smoothly,
To evade the stench,
And lose track of the man next,
Who keeps wording in his snores,
Pin-drop silence, you get it?
I'm struggling for light,
Fresh air and breeze,
My mind goes dark one more time,
I reach for a glass of water,
Well, its champagne,
I wonder,
What it has to do with my mental state?
I see the men in blue pointing knives,
And I keep still.

I miss the streets,
Tough but kind,
We fight and eat together,
I'm tormented,
It gives me suicidal thoughts,
I wave across the corridor,
If someone will hold my hand,
'Hey, keep your place, you nincompoop'
Then I realize,
I stole for insanity,
And I'll get killed for that,
In the conspire of the sane.
This is a definition of the dark side of the mental rehabilitations, where, just like prisons, people are mistreated and trashed upon. They are treated like they don't deserve to live again.
Written by
Kirah  19/F/Kenya
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