Pied Peddler

When mother’s mercy murders me

and drags me back to Hell

I’ll walk through embers willingly

to leave behind this shell

​

Satan sells you clarity

through lidless, bleeding eyes

Forcing mindless parity

a consciousness despised

​

Poison pills to satisfy

poisoned, putrid doses

But poison pills can’t pacify

this unrestrained psychosis

​

Now drag me down the reaper’s row

Down, down, down, to bonds below

where nothing comes and no one goes

just beating drums and deathly throes

​

Crack the whip and blacken me

with phony words and faux disease

to still your soul and ill your ease

to kill, control, malign and seize

​

Rotten rancor sloughs away

mottled in the spite of day

heedless to those you infect

gangrenous from long neglect

​

Talk to walls: professionals

entrenching malcontent

Bearing palls: processionals

to drown away lament

​

A blinding show of apathy

defines this institution

Condemning victims absently

to lives of persecution

​

I want relief from this affliction

I want to end this here

But Satan only offers fiction

masked in sleek veneer

​

Don’t pretend, don’t bullshit me

Your caring ends where pulpits be

So spurn me with the faith you fake

And burn me at your wooden stake

​

Let me be your boogeyman

the punchline to your joke

Your typical American

Your hate, your hope, your yoke

​

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just wrote this about my experience with the mental health system