Inpatient ID # 6013, Unit 7

1999

I am not happy here.
My memories of Lysol halls visit me here in barren walls.
And the clear plastic that seperates me from freedom,
Frowns a wooden smile, and breathes cold air into my empty room.
Strange how my only communication
With the patients next door is knocking on the wall.
And if the warden knew,
He would probably restrain my arms to keep me from doing so.
But alas, the stars call me
Through the flouresent lights
And the bug-infested greenery.
This place is like a medical hospital:
The sheets are white, the beds are uncomfortable, and
Medication is given on schedule, not on request.