Tied down, trapped within.
The instruments surround; the compassion can not exist within the ever-sterile environment.
The demon's external promise of hope and science is a bastard's promise soaked with good intentions and doused with kerosene.
All the pretty flowers painted upon the wall behind barred windows cries of a voiceless soul.
Let us play on the lesser children of society's unwanted trash.
No straight jacket needed or padded room's protection.
We are free to make our own choices as long as they don't question the constraints of a society's majority rule.
The hammers strike the skull's fracture.
No demons torment the empty spaces, for those helpful, studied hands have locked them all within.
A once thriving river of confused souls’ imagination is now locked within a nightmare’s perpetual labyrinth.
As the sheep of a higher learning all clamor eager to one day practice destruction under the guise of healing.
No need to trouble yourself, a bullet’s beauty seems a far lesser evil.
Bind your thoughts with your tongue.
Madness is within; let's play God to serve the ego and silence the truths buried in a fact.
There is no answer to all mysteries eternal.
Silence your thoughts and please do throw away this perpetual miseries key.
JPR is a southern gothic writer.
His work has been published in Svartedauden Zine, Piker Press, It Takes All Kinds Literary Zine, Fixator Press, Spill The Words Press, Sava Press, Fearless Poetry Zine and here at The Dope Fiend Daily.
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