Sunday Rhymes 02

Death Sentence

The dank air hung tightly to my skin,
the smell of death filled my nostrils,
how did I end up here in this crazy asylum,
haunted by the nurses and their prescription fill.

Every day is a nightmare relived,
panic and fear feed my insomnia,
running from those in white, who cares if I live?
I try to escape back, to when times were freer.

These padded walls do more harm,
an exit they do not provide,
an eternity of white, never leading to calm,
just a continuous thought of suicide.

Although I scream; nobody replies,
men with muscles tie me down,
Just another dose to quieten my cries,
hey look at all these funny clowns.

The time has come; let’s go to the chair,
the smell hasn’t left a constant reminder,
the judge looks angry – he won’t be fair,
punishable to death for killing dad’s favorite rooster with the lawnmower.



Note: No roosters were harmed in the making of this poem.

2 thoughts on “Sunday Rhymes 02

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