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.
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