Untitled Iii

Listless moaning, Asylum of the damned, Sanity underneath the white? Impossible to tell Visions flash before their eyes As they drag them to a new home. Push them in and leave them. Is it red? Are the visions red? Echoing as they lay Beside the white walls of a mental prison The moaning of those who have gone To be free but all alone For they are dead And waiting And waiting And waiting For the ones who’ve come again Waiting in the black Between them is the white – That protects you when you come. Until you forget to protect yourself Bleeding red until you can’t, You become one of the damned.