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OpenWorldView Nov 2018
Shoving, pushing, a high pitched row.
Nerves so tense, lids to blow.
What an insane nuthouse show.
Morning commutes are not healthy.
B Young Apr 2016
On the mental ward,
there is no "Lord,"
no "Savior."
Only society's leftovers,
shuffled to and fro and
around and around we go.
Pauline Morris Mar 2016
If you ever wake up in a hug yourself jacket
Dress in all white, feeling like a maggot
Don't worry about the fall
The room will be padded after all

The bright light will not let you hide
You'll have wished you'd of died
As they **** and they poke
And your anger they'll provoke

So they can hook you up and electrify your mind
So you can forget the memories they find
There will be no more dark clouds
They will no longer be allowed

Inside your cranium
Their will be no more delirium
Take the little pills they give
They say you need them to live

They will have hollowed you out
No more need to shout
Because once you where a dark horse
Now They made you into a living corpse

— The End —