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The inescapable abyss in which you find yourself to be, is caused primarily by a childhood non-ideal as I can see. Prim and proper you've been told, for manners haunt you till your old.
I know that you have been locked in there Where? You can't tell, locked is all you know
When you walk in, You hide your fear, You fist your hands
I stare out the window, watching the rain It rolls down the window like the tears on my face. This pain, this fear, I’ve been trying for years To make it go away, to make it disappear.
Welcome to the hospital. Where they strip you of your human rightsLike liberty and lawful due processYour right to choose, and live, and think,Then say you have Delusions of Persecution.
That light hasn't come on for weeks now, and I got a sense of peace when I was dying: the bells peter out, the sirens stop crying. I am left with the cold wind sifting my bones.