Strapped down in the asylum.
Heavy straight jacket around my body.
White room.
One light.
One door.
The doctor comes in.
Tells me stuff I already know.
Tells me I'm not all there.
Tells me I'm not normal.
Tells me that I'm insane.
I grin.
I tell him stuff he should know.
I tell him I'm not all there.
I tell him I'm far from normal.
I tell him I'm insane.
The doctor laughs and walks out the door.
I slump in the chair I'm attached to.
I think about the few happy memories I have.
I smile and sing softly to myself.
I sing the lullaby my mother sung to me.
A few days pass.
The doctor does his tests.
He makes sure I'm healthy.
He talks to me like he would a normal person.
I don't respond to anything he says.
A week passes.
The doctor does his tests still.
He makes sure I'm still healthy.
He talks to me still.
I still don't respond.
A month passes.
The doctor does his tests still.
He makes sure I'm still healthy.
He talks to me still.
I still don't respond.
A year passes.
The doctor makes his rounds.
He stops at my cell and comes in.
He comes to me and holds me.
He talks about his life.
The doctor walks through the doors like he did the week before.
He tells me that I'm unstable.
He tells me that I'm changing.
He tells me that I can feel emotions.
He tells me that I'm not like the other patients.
The doctor looks into my eyes.
He smiles.
He strokes my hair.
He caresses my cheek.
He kisses my forehead.
I smile back at the doctor.
I look at his perfect pale blonde hair.
I search his familiar blue eyes.
I look at his smooth tan skin.
I kiss his mouth.
The doctor is my husband and I'm his insane wife.
