Empty halls and empty heads,
empty rooms with empty beds;
all those people, all nowhere,
an ambulance once took me there.
They told me they could make me feel
better, help me know what’s real-
then took me to an empty room
with iron door and sense of doom.
they told me that I had to strip
and searched me with cold, harsh, gloved grip
I spread my legs just like they said,
despite my shame and hate and dread.
They shoved me in a crowded space
with nary a familiar face;
Fear and trembling was the rule,
but never could I lose my cool
for fear of being placed again
inside that windowless, dark pen
with iron door and sense of doom-
a place for punishment, that room.
They said that I would heal there, then
I saw it, again and again:
they lied to me. It was not
a place to heal, but to rot.
The medications did not save
but send us to an early grave,
our minds they took away with pills
that stopped our pain but sapped our wills.
Animal or prisoner-
not patient- was what we were.
They belittled us, but we could
not fight back, or else we would
be denied the right to piss!
I have not forgiven this.
I will never forgive you
for the things you made me do-
the ‘sane’ let them do this to me.
And if this was too harsh to see,
too long or difficult to read,
just know that you have made us bleed.