Freedom inside the white room
is liberation from nothing.
I have nothing. I once had an opinion,
but even that was taken away from me.
A Manipulative shadow in a white coat
breathes crimson fire
a deceptive light
in the unpredictable
I was diagnosed as deranged.
I have been transformed from
society man to asylum master. I have gray
pajamas and swollen eyes.
I try to sleep, but my mind is ablaze with
greedy fire. The man in the next room is dead. I know
because I can no longer hear him talking to his dead sister
in the hallway. You can kill yourself with anything in here.
I am in the center of a doctrinaire universe, where
those who fear me scavenge my mind for a sickness that I do not have.
I am pushed into the solitary cold water room.
I submerge myself in the darkness. I search for cracks of light.
I feel my frozen muscles tighten. How long will it take me to die?
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