I am trapped in a straitjacket
Unable to move
I may as well be in a casket

Trying to remember how I got here
Everything is so unclear
I am blindfolded and everything starts to disappear

Out of control
Out of my mind
Out of a soul

I fight against the sleeves
Thrashing, resisting
Trying so hard to leave

Doctors whispering reassuringly
But the words don't reach me
No matter how kindly

In an asylum you don't pay rent
Because you are a slave against your will
Held there just for thinking something different

Not a single letter
No one wants to talk to the insane
No one even thinks you'll ever get better

Then you lose hope in your own recovery
No one else believes it, why should you?
You forget what it is to even be free.

Alone
Forgotten
Unknown

This straitjacket gets no easier to bear
I pull and pull
But it gets no better to wear
Amy Krencius May 19
I am the fearful that wanders these halls;
This wakening nightmare enslaves and enthralls.
I am the lost, here I wander alone;
My realm built of terror, into the unknown.

You were my dearest, most trusted of friend;
The one that has been and shall be to the end.
You were all that I knew (all I could see);
Within this refuge, it was just you and me.

I am the desolate, broken and lost;
I've paid for my sins, and so high was the cost.
I am chaos lying dormant within;
Come, let me show you, lest you leave me again…

You fell away, slipped away, coldly left me to drown;
Abandoned at the gates of this void that surrounds.
Fierce demons have woken, they lurk all around;
As they rise, still I fall, and this world tears me down.

Mine is this fear, it is all that I know;
This dread, it consumes me, I've no place to go.
Mine is this sorrow that burdens my soul;
This wreckage inside, I am no longer whole.

You were the truth I had known from the start;
This monster (my monster) buried deep in my heart.
Forever the nightmare, hidden in shame;
This destruction is mine, this hell I have made...
“Talk to me”, said the man with a broken heart
to a woman who lost her mind.
“Tell me of your missfortune and mistakes
and I will tell you mine”.
And as she could not recall
a  thought, an act or part
He turned to comfort her politely,
“It’ll be okay,
…just don’t let them take away your heart”

Then pointing her finger to his chest
she asked, how it is he’s not dead
A heart is such a fragile thing
And where it was he bled
though yet broken, it was not bleeding
so there wasn’t much he said
She just smiled at him reassuringly,
“It’ll be okay,
…just make sure you keep your head”
Poetic Surgery, Copyright © 2018,  All rights reserved
I penned a pen bent out of my mind
asylum I seek, and of fetid dreams I reek
silence dreaded, but it seems it's all she can speak..

should have taken my time, but padded cells
they shook us to the core; in our loneliness
we held each other in embrace like no-one
has ever been held before; today I awoke
dizzy; confused, and admitted to another shore
one that swashes in pain; like an ocean of glass
and with each break, her memory shreds my heart like an open sore.

so I slowly begin to wash away the pain,
disaster being; my mind isn't even mine,
and it's always been that way;
even before I realized sanity was just a game
but in the grind of life,
it's a hellish reminder to not have been born very sane.

profusely I beg, and plead; but it's as plain as day,
she's never coming back; so slack, and bleed, and cut as we may;
administer the habitual as I plead and pray--
not to cut too deep; because this life
it's already taken most of me away.
heartache, pain, sanity, asylum, lockup, police, tdo, recovery, sanity, hope
Tanya Louise Apr 21
run from thou
the reaper
that cold night
hood was drawn
but to cry is a sin
so run for you life
as he comes down
what blood was drawn
oh, the fatal tale of a rogue mind
Terry Collett Mar 22
The còrridors are empty now.
Windows look out on wasted
grounds. A feint smell of urine

on the air. Once the insane
wandered here coming and
going in slow pace lost to an

outer world. If you stand still
a while here, close your eyes,
you may hear the ghostly cries

and calls emiting from the walls.
Gazing out the windows, where
once they stood staring at that

other world, that sane world,
you see the overgrown grass
and untended trees, hedgerows

untrimmed, the sky now cloudy
and dimmed. You pace the once
crowded wards. Bars at the

windows, linoleum floors urine
stained. Here they sat or stood
or walked, pacing to and fro, going

no where, no where to go. You
imagine unkindness here,
over-drugged, mocked or jeered.

Some nurses cared and brought
a light of kindness to a haunted
mind. The whole sepulchre now

ghostly still and dumb. You sense
the reality of it all feeling numb
Fidget Spinner Sep 2017
22.5 million.
The growing number of recorded refugees in this world.

Refugees are like you and me,
All they want is to be free,
Freedom that can only be found through at the assistance of helping hand,
And not a shooting gun taking away land.

Dreams invaded,
Memories faded,
Children crying in their sleep,
Parents dying as they weep,

Running across a land,
Trying to find a place
That's safe and secure,
Where the air and the water and the people
Are pure,

A nation fallen to its knees,
As the elderly wheeze,
The unwell and sickened sneeze,
Parents utter the word please,
As they salvage all the food that they can seize.

A boat soars through the crashing grey waves,
As everyone prays.
This boat is the last spark of hope,
A single spark of hope left in the piles of fallen dark ashes.
The single star sparkling in the dark pit known as the sky.
My throat tangles in a knot,
The last bullet is fired,
I think of everyone that’s been shot,
this is the opposite of what I desired.

Don’t be so blind,
To not even care upon mankind.
When you eat others starve,
So empathise,
Open your eyes,
And realise
We are all allies,
When someones dies,
Don’t criticise
When someone cries,
Don’t Despise

Instead reach out and extend a helping hand,
Prove that humankind is still kind,
And not a myth made up in our mind.
Reach out and extend a helping hand.
this poem sucks
Terry Collett Jul 2017
Where the place? The nurse
watches as you fold and unfold
the towel after your bath, she
ignores what you say, her eyes
watch every move you make.

Where the place? you say, patting
the towel with the palms of
your hands, picking off a speck
of white. Maggie, that's enough,
the nurse says, losing patience,
sighing beneath her breath.

She walks beside you down
the dark passageway, never in
front(she's been told never to turn
her back on you.) Your hair is
cropped, your eyes stare ahead,
you mutter: where the place?

Upon the heath, you answer
yourself, there to meet...Hush
Maggie, the nurse says, eyeing
you warily, having read the report
on you, how you stabbed your
boyfriend's friend with a pair of
scissors, jab, jab, jab. There to meet,
whom will I meet? You say, looking
the nurse's way, taking in her pink
plumpness, the softness of her flesh,
her wariness of stare. You both enter
the main room. It is large and other
criminally insane patients sit about
or stand. Sit down now, Maggie,
the nurse says. You sit in a chair by
the wall. She walks off, her plump
behind sways as she walks away.

Jamie stands by the window; he
stares out. He still has the slit throat
you gave him as he slept in bed
beside you. He is silent. Moody fart,
you muse, wishing he'd go away, and
take his slit throat with him. Where
the place? You ask. He turns and looks
at you, but says nothing. You look
ahead at the passing crowd, the tall
nurse walks another patient by his
thin arm. WHERE THE PLACE?
You shout. Bells rings, nurses look
and rush towards you in sharp alarm.
MAGGIE IN ASYSLUM FOR THE CRIMINALLY INSANE.
Juniper Zarlengo Jul 2017
Have I ever told you what metaphor you are?
You remind me of my personal morning star
I am scared like a child, finding asylum in your light
And the only things that can hurt me come out at night.

I wait eagerly and patiently for your quick return
I just wish your sweet kisses stuck with me like sunburn
But when all is said and done, I can rely on you
Because when I need you the most, you rise again, anew

So never burn out, because the sun hasn’t yet
After five-billion years, the sun hasn’t ultimately set
Though if there’s one thing that you must remember
It’s that I will still love you until the sun’s merely an ember
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