#padded
White padded walls
That's what I see Day in and day out
This isn't what I wanted to be
I realize now that I'm crazy
That's why it's an insane asylum that contains me
I acted upon impulse
Not thinking of the horrifying result
I'm the outcome of a terrible tragedy that I went the wrong way about
And now without a doubt
I regret my actions
The interactions that I had without thinking twice
And now I pay the price
I was angry and they didn't deserve this
It wasn't up to me to end the life that they lived
The small child in the crib. The life for you that there could have been.
But I took that from you
And there is so much I would do to give it back
The only things that's possible to say is that I'm sorry
But sorry just won't do it. It won't make up for what I've taken from you.
All because I was angry and didn't think I could muster a smile. All the while I could've focused on what was good
But I didn't think twice and thought my sadness was yours and my mind took the wrong course
And made me think I couldn't make you happy anymore.
All I think about is the blood on the floor of your mothers and yours.
I'm sorry child. For my actions that had gone wild. The whole situation isn't right.
How could I have done this?
How could I have put you on the receiving end of the knife
When I was the one who gave you life.
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 7:32 PM UTC
I tell myself, can't see ahead,
But my path is already drawn?
A narrow line in antiseptic light
that runs from dusk to dawn.
Each morning bleeds from yesterday
through walls too white to stain,
and prophecy is nothing more
than habit dressed as chain.
I wake inside a measured room,
where padded corners bloom,
and silence hums fluorescent hymns
against a vacant tune.
Who decides what sane is?
Who writes the rules for me?
If healing feels like suffocating,
is that recovery?
You call this safety, call it care
I call it slowly dying.
Tie my hands, dim the lights,
but you can’t stop me trying.
A canvas binds my restless arms,
fabric biting skin;
they say it’s for protection
I say it cages what’s within.
Once I held a voice so clear
like winter in the air,
now it shatters into swallowed glass
and settles into prayer.
Save me, smiling martyr,
step down from polished wood;
your halo shines in sterile light
it does me little good.
Who decides what sane is?
Who names me unwell?
If I don’t fit your diagnosis,
am I broken — or rebel?
You crown yourselves as cures
while I am tied in shame.
Don’t tell me I am better
just because you need the claim.
Your Eyes blink in corners
of every fragile day,
watching lest I fracture
or quietly slip away.
Rats of thought inside the walls
scratch along the seams;
they gnaw at former purposes
until they feel like dreams.
They ask me, will you take the pills?
Will you say you’re ill?
Will you trade your jagged truth
for something easier to fill?
Who decides what sane is?
What if the system’s wrong?
What if the thing that claims to heal
is what’s been choking all along?
You can catalogue and keep me,
file me, lock me still
but something in me will not die,
and something never will.
Feb 9
Feb 9, 2026 at 9:00 PM UTC
A recording booth is nothing more than another padded room.
© Matthew Harlovic
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 1:13 PM UTC
Look at the eyes in my own reflection
Young yet full of so much pain
I wear invisible armor undetectable
To keep guarded from love's aim
Padded heart is cushioned well
Securing feelings when I fall
My ears braced for the eventual goodbye
Ready to crash each time you call
My eyes prepared for the tears to flow
Deep purple bags will appear again soon
My emotions are made of glass
Worn smooth by tides pulled by the moon
Can't taste my hesitation?
Interest can be a dangerous game
Take your hand with the expectation
It will end like others, always the same
Plucking my disappointments from within
Send to a distant land
Tempted to chase after them
But how can I run if unable to stand?
I turn desire to doubt
Open doorways to uncertainty
Shut the ones with stability on the other side
Negative mind will cause you to flee
You can't say I didn't give you fair warning
What did you expect?
Closed off from the world for a reason
Built walls around my heart to protect
Hoping for the best, fearing the worst
Your infatuation appears too good to be real
Trying to stay strong but I am falling hard
Please let me know if this is how you truly feel
Nov 3, 2018
Nov 3, 2018 at 9:10 PM UTC
lock me in a building
a room, if you will
padded ****** walls
to terrorize my mind
and, most importantly,
fix me
and i wonder
are psychotic girls a good ****
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 9:27 PM UTC