The windows really are gated, It's not a lie.

Can you guess what it's about?

“I’m sitting in a room, made up of only big white walls and in the halls there’s people looking through, the window in the door they know exactly what you’re here for. Don’t look up just let them think there’s no place else you’d rather be.” " Fences, Paramore.

 

 

Darling,

Can you hear me?

Save me from this prison,

The windows are really gated.

It’s not a lie.

 

Sweetheart,

Can you save me?

The screams are really crazy.

They pull them away like animals,

Shove them into rooms filled with soft walls.

 

Honey,

Can you see me?

They close our doors as the sedatives are poured,

But all I think as the needle enters them,

That could be me.

 

Baby,

Can you feel me?

These white walls are the elements of my days.

I taste nothing, though it passes over my tongue.

These walls conceal me though I’m about to break.

It’s the healing process, they say.

 

Sweetie,

Can you walk away?

Pretend you don’t see this?

Pretend I’m not feeling it?

My senses have been captured by the stale air,

We breathe it in every day, sitting, staring,

Pretending we’re somewhere we’re not.

 

 

Reviews

[Leslie Philibert]

Very dramatic look at mental illness, a mature write from a young writer.

[Matthew Kult]

of course I could always be wrong, but this feels more like an observation, as if you are visiting someone and they are just wanting to get away, to be back home. And you are trying to comfort them by listening, but catch glimpses of the everyday life while you are there. They say it's a healing process...but I miss you...it's how it made me feel. Regardless, this is a powerful write and very well writen. Great work.

Regards,

Matthew

[Nothing Personal]

A mental institution and the mumblings of an insanely sane person. Well done..There's style and kind of association with this character and his so called insanity..I adore this one :-)

[Molly]

Well, I'm just gonna go ahead and say that I've been locked up in a state mental facility before and I remember they allowed me only one phone call. I called one of my friends from school to tell her that I wasn't going to make it to a rehearsal. In the middle of the phone call I lost it and started crying and exclaimed "the trash bins here are all chained down to the walls" as though that were really the worst part of the situation. Maybe I misinterpreted this poem, but that's definitely what it made me think of. Especially when you said they pulled the people away like animals. I would have loved to be concealed by walls though; I was behind glass being constantly watched.

[livinglifeloud]

I absolutely love your descriptions in this. I don't read poetry that often, but you had me captivated.