Islolated thoughts dance with mediocore food
Blue paper pants and shoes with no laces.
Guilty of thoughts most consider crude
I’ve seen better days and been to better places.
New sheriff’s in town and her name is Nurse Betty
Sick to my stomach but more so in my head.
My skin tightens up and my palms are so sweaty
I Wake up, to throw up, and then get back in bed.
Hospital gowns that go both ways
Sad medicated souls that to live life kills.
In a sedated corner the sad boy stays
To hell with you all and just give me my pills!
This is your life and roll call’s every minute
You might be depressed but your still a little crazy.
God may love you but no matter how you spin it
You won’t get better when your sight is so hazy.
So I pour shampoo in to a cup
And rent my razor by the hour.
Ten minutes and phone time is up
And there’s always a “higher power.”
Excuse me while I medicate
Two under the tongue and three above.
Useless hours force me to meditate
What I need prescribed to me is love.
Once inside everything will go numb
Others around you will make you laugh.
Your instinct will tell you to just run
Happiness is now decided by staff.
If you think your better, you’re not
And if you feel alone, you are.
Of course you’ll feel both cold and hot!
But ignoring it will not get you too far.