Here once they would
have been locked up,
have sat rocking back
and forth, drooling into
their hands. Have looked
from this same window
where now you stand
looking out at the asylum
grounds. The place now
abandoned to its ruin like
those who were once
imprisoned here. There
is a smell about the place,
smell of sadness and pus
and ***** and echoes
of those crying out in
anguish, gazing once
where you now gaze,
seeing the same sun
and moon, eating away
their days with the same
spoon, same poor food.
You see the grounds,
overgrow weeds, bushes
overgrown. You there
staring out at the view alone.
Nov 26, 2016
Nov 26, 2016 at 3:14 AM UTC
Here once they would
have been locked up,
have sat rocking back
and forth, drooling into
their hands. Have looked
from this same window
where now you stand
looking out at the asylum
grounds. The place now
abandoned to its ruin like
those who were once
imprisoned here. There
is a smell about the place,
smell of sadness and pus
and ***** and echoes
of those crying out in
anguish, gazing once
where you now gaze,
seeing the same sun
and moon, eating away
their days with the same
spoon, same poor food.
You see the grounds,
overgrow weeds, bushes
overgrown. You there
staring out at the view alone.
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