It was to be a place of rest, a chance to work things out,

Peace, quiet and time.

Away from stress, temptations and doubt.

A place to calm my mind.

 

Where support was not, coldness reigned

Piercing deeply through my skin.

Alone and frightened, days and nights the same,

Dwelling on my sin.

 

My Asylum, Once thought to be safe oasis

Is instead a colony for lepers of the mind.

Hope is bound in canvas wraps in rooms of darkness and disease.  

Nothing left to find.  

 

Cries of agony, screams of terror and fear,

Shouts of despondent dread

Pierced the darkness of the night for all to hear.

The pain of wishing to be dead.

 

People, worthless and wretched, having lost life’s purpose,

Yet still pleading to be whole.

Could these cries that echo through the wards of Hell   

All be coming from my soul?

 

October 5, 2012

                                                                                                                                     

 

Asylum By Jane Weber