Strapped inside a tight straight jacket
I regain consciousness
my head is spinning like an old top
I open my eyes slowly
looking at the white padded walls
I try to rise
but am unable to move
It was my mind for me to use
not for them to play with
asking me silly questions
and making notes
or muttering observations
to a battered tape recorder
They think I have lost my mind
but it was mine to give away
to who it was passed
does not matter any more
I can’t get it back for some time
Screams of the other inmates
echo round the cells
chasing the hysterical laughter
of those next door
I still have my heart
beating inside my chest
they can’t take it away
nor can they play with that
as I still love
I finally rise from the cold floor
stumbling to the window
looking out at the trees
and listening to the bird
I stumble to the bed
and fall back onto it
the white straight jacket
cuts into my arms
as I roll into a ball
and begin to howl
John Westlake
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/031-inside-the-asylum/
