Prison State of Mind
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Curtains closed, lights dimmed, some faintly flickering candles
Escaping satirical scandals, how malignant media mishandles
Empty notepad as my words freely float around in atmosphere
Blocked by brainwashing remarks of sharks eager to profiteer
Of my thorough talent but unaware they’re destroying my skills
Terrified to tell the torturing threats filling me as I utter soft shrills
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Silently sitting still, awaiting for creativity to finally fall upon me
But my mind dares not to free its power, so caged by boundary
For they will steal my genius ideas like a mere thief in the night
And so I refuse to ignite my ability to write as an undivided right
I gradually gaze around me to see piranhas creepily closing in
Put myself in mental prison, paranoia as my sweet, chosen sin
For I feel bold beast’s breathe in my neck, desiring my demise
All alone without any allies, craving for the moon’s dun disguise
No one on eerie earth is worth my trust, guided by luscious lust
Merely money as must, blinded by wealth which wakes disgust
Trapped in careful consciousness that limits my sole potential
Cannot shout out loud, gone is freedom as good life’s essential
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Fluorescent lights shining down on me, no more pen nor pad
Ghosts dressed in white coats staring, whispering: “how sad
When you think about talent she had, artists always go mental
They are lived by society until their fame turns too detrimental
Getting locked up inside a fantasy world they came to create
Example of mental clinic’s bait for it’s an artist’s inevitable fate”