If
truthful words were Felbatol
That
helps prevent a seizure
Honesty
is presently
Still the
best procedure
So
unclothe the judgment of your mind
Enter the
mental ward while you’re sane
Not the
floor for the senseless patient
But the hospital
in your brain
Facts are
often more vivid to you
When
you’re walking down these halls
And it’s
easier to believe the danger
With the
nail-marks on the walls
On the
first floor you find a man
Who peers
through the windowpane
The door
to his room is rusty and heavy
And
padlocked and held by bloody chains
The man
is not insane at all
But the
hospital fears his anger
They
correct what is abnormal
Based on confusion
instead of danger
But what
is it that mankind fears?
Is it not
simply the unknown?
If they
cannot wrap their minds around it
You’re
evil if you’re not a clone.
Fear of
nonexistent evil
This will
lead to hate
The man
in the ward is subject to testing
And dies
on experimental plates
Across
the hall is another man
The
Doctor hates the coward
For the
man is misinterpreted
And then
by the ward, devoured
The
Doctor doesn’t help him
He diagnoses
in haste
The
cowardly are sickening
So the
Doctor cleans up the waste
The
hospital is full of these
The ward
is run in fear
The men
that fill the rooms and bags
Are
killed for shedding tears
Mercilessly
the Doctor kills
The
hospital suppresses hope
Illegally
the victims slain
Lucky are
those who find a rope
Before
the Doctor finds them
And
experiments on their forms
The
hospital wherein we walk
Is a graveyard
called a “dorm”
Understand
the distinction
As we
snap out of this dream
The
haunted halls of the twisted Doctor
Are more
real than they likely seem
Keep the
judgment from your mind
As I
continue this rhetorical mixture
Instead
of acrylics, I used the likeness
Of a
mental ward to paint this picture
But do
not be disillusioned
Those
nails that scratched the walls
Are still
quite real, though in reality
It’s
human souls that are being mauled
On the
one hand you find a man
Who
shakes his fists in the rain
The door
to his room is the nighttime air
And
people’s happiness is his bane
This
veteran is not insane at all
But the
world still fears his anger
They
avoid him because he is abnormal
Based on
confusion instead of danger
But what
is it that mankind fears?
Is it not
simply the unknown?
The
veteran is treated like a dog
Too poor
and dirty to be thrown a bone
Fear of
nonexistent evil
This will
lead to hate
The
veteran is nameless and forgotten
And dies in
pain by a subway gate
On the
other hand is another man
Society
hates the “coward”
The man
is “too emotional”
Then by
the world, devoured
Society
doesn’t want him
It judges
him in haste
The mark
of manhood is not feeling
If you
do, you are a waste
Society
is full of these
The world
is run in fear
These men
that fill the body-bags
Are
killed for shedding tears
Mercilessly
society slays
The world
suppresses hope
Unconsciously
the victims slain
Lucky are
they who find a rope
Before
society burns them
And to
their pain shows mirth
Society
in which we live
Is just a
graveyard we call “Earth.”
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