Being Different

stengchen – sanitorium – deviant art

A suppressed longing,
sitting quiet and numb.

The clock strikes eight,
prodding and poking.

Emotions feel fluid,
a free-flowing river.

Jumbled emotions;
medical instruments
seem to be colder.

Every hole examined,
nothing remains empty,
anoetic consciousness.

Unknowing becomes
knowing, as you move
into thought and action.

Stripped naked and bare,
as white-coated figures
take what you love away.

No choices remain,
being different is a sin,
you’d rather be dead.

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