Experiments fill the halls of his lab
Chaos ensues when the doors open
Doctor R. throwing yet another one into a cell
Too see how they fair in the world with his changes
His experimentation has been going for decades
Hundreds upon hundreds of those deranged lunatics
Lined the hallways, each in a cell of their own
All unique in one way or another
Some moved on into the other life
While others are doomed to a life of containment
Experiment number 438, nothing special
He was a guinea pig for a new drug Doctor R. longed for
His eyes blood shot, red as fire
Shot back and forward as he struggled
Struggled to remove the jacket that binds him
His mouth was gagged like the others
As so they don’t bite there tongs off
To feel the sweet relief of death
That they have been craving for far too long
Epically this experiment
For today marked his 4th year being held
And he could not die
Yet he could not live
Stuck in his mad man limbo
Unfeeling for how he survives anymore
He, much like most of the others, isn’t fed
Or given water of any kind
But hooked up to an Ivey
That trickling magical liquid
Giving their body enough power to maintain a beat
Doctor R. makes his rounds around the dark, unsanitary hallways
With a smooth, musical rhythm as he steps
“Tip, tap, tip, tap” His steps were light and meaningless
For the fear was driven even farther when the rhythm, halted
Especially when your door was the one being opened
I’d say luckily his door didn’t open this time
But it wasn’t really lucky at all
Maybe this time his experiment would finally die
Relieving them of the horror that soon follows
Though experiment #437 was selected
So there he sits
Struggling and squirming with the little energy he has
Like a work through the dirt
Trying to advance in any direction was impossible
For the jackets were bound tightly to the floor
Not a single thought of his own anymore
The man that inhabited this body has long sense be gone
His empty shell, wanting out
Wanting the freedom it ever so craves
But sadly it will never feel this freedom again
Yet again, there he lies
4 years there
And possibly another 4 to go
Or eternity, for who can really say
Epically for this poor soul #438
YOU ARE READING
Doctor Realist
PoetryDoctor Realist is a mad doctor who harvests his patients off the streets around his asylum. He has racked up hundreds upon hundreds of them and has done something different to every single one of them. His two nurses, Nurse Sandy and Nurse Tia are t...
