Someone's world this is, in which I hide.
Psychitzophrenic hues the color blind.
Sticking pins through living butterflies.
Wringing hands wash nothing but themselves.
My fingers find the holes outside my head.
Electric shocks my system, I am held.
Pacing back and forth I'm borderline.
Sex when I was young was on their mind.
Bracelets made of leather they were brown.
Astringent smells inhuman yells there is no sleep.
Buckled down the gurney in the hall.
I am filled with shame the bed pans full it shows.
Golden hues of Autumn fill the melancholy air,
bright brown eyes that read the catcher in the rye.
Pink the book I see Xaviers Hollander, the happy hooker,
on the bench when she was all of twelve.
And the rest just like a wave it comes and goes.
Is It Poetry
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/argued-blue/
