Every window within this confined space
Contains a filter that holds in one's grief
And releases all hopes for freedom.
Fascination overcomes my body
As I stare at the steel screen.
Like a man stricken with catalepsy,
I vacantly look through each hole in the screen
Without a trace of consciousness
Apparent to those around me.
Thoughts of previous events
Enter the hectic atmosphere of my brain,
For the setting is all too familiar.
Once, I had been held in this room.
The location was different,
But the ambiance was exactly the same.
Beings trapped within their own torture chambers
Roamed through the halls of another.
Women in white pushed drugs through this padded ghetto,
Tricking residents into believing that
Substances with funny names
Would make their spirits higher.
Panic sets in.
I try with all my might to suppress it
For that would be grounds for a mandatory lease.
My mind starts racing
And all thoughts spin
And spin
And spin
And spin
And spin
And spin
And spin.
Eyes begin to lose focus on keeping reasonable.
Soon, the act of suppression becomes more difficult.
I clutch the steel screen for dear life
Almost as if my only escape was to forcefully remove it.
Respiration quickens as I keep myself on my feet
Trying to set myself free
Even though I am not the prisoner.
However, I am a prisoner of my own past.
One that I thought was resolved.
After revisiting the neighborhood once again,
The screaming that once existed became louder.
Once again, I was tempted to echo the yells.
If I did, you would hear me say
As I bang against the steel screen:
I WANT TO BE FREE!
WHY CAN'T I BE FREE!
SET ME FREE!
Alas, I can barely get out a word.
Worry renders me weak.
Once the cataleptic episode ends,
I yet again resume my life
And do what I always do during times like these:
Hide behind a silicone smile
And suffer in silence..

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