Why Don't I Write You A Poem

A Slave

I'm a slave to these lines
I cannot disguise
How fucked up inside
I've fucked up my mind

I'm not gonna force you to read this
No, all my work is simply statistics
Monitored by therapists
Trying to map out the data
Am I useful? Forget this

These chains are heavy
They aren't even there
I've cornered myself
But I'm not even scared

These prison walls look like home to me
Everything in my past is unwritten history
When I finally am allowed to sleep
I promise there won't be much to see

I've been blindfolded and handed masochist
Absorbed it to feed the sadistic
I've been numbed down to my spirit
I'm sick. I know I am sick

I've scratched at these walls like an animal
Have nubs for fingers, it's unbearable
I'm starved from all of my senses
I'm starved from common sense, yes

Ripples of flesh are ripped from the dead parts
My mind is practically a machine
Hypnotized by passionate lies
Trust me, I can't feel a thing

I'll never feel a thing.