Broken Window - Rhyme Asylum

My name is Dean Emit, victim of a serious mistake

Diagnosed as clinically insane

Sectioned, imprisoned and detained

The last thing I remember I was being physically restrained

First sensed something was amiss

Noticing the other inmates had cuts across their wrists

My trust in the nurses hesitated

Instantly ceased taking medication

They segregated selective mental patients

Once caught a glimpse of the room where they’d take them

Reasons why remain undisclosed

A hundred volts straight to the victim’s frontal lobes

Disguised as medical tests

These vulnerable people were being sentenced to death

I had to escape

Spent night and day racking my brain

Insomniac, but I had no solid plan

One day in group therapy, eventually lost my rag

Next thing I knew, a doctor pushed me straight through a window

Awoke later in my bed, as my mind cleared

A pain in my side sparking the idea

Tied up without side effects

Shook loose the undetected shard of glass from behind my vest

Heart pounding inside my chest

Managed to slice my restraints, fell down beside my bed

Stood up, pulled off the ceiling’s iron mesh

Climbed the winding vent entangled in spider webs

Exited down a flight of steps

Ditched my hospital gown so the dogs won’t find the scent

Felt the cold wind on my face

Blinded by the moonlight, my mental prison escape

His name was Doctor Emit institutionalised

For committing the most unusual crimes

Torturing patients numerous times

‘Till one escaped, brought the truth to the light

Losing his mind but kept it top secret

Unnecessary methods of shock treatment

No waiting list kept going till the power died

Or the patient did, which ever came first

He was a slave to his hunger within

Tied them up sewed razors under their skin

Eyes void of emotion

When asked why he did it, he just said: 'the voices had spoken'

Insane, locked in a cell

Dementia in control of all knowledge of self

Day to day he’d yell about the crimes

Like he didn’t do them and they’re still taking place

Swimming in the depths of depression

Volatile, living on the edge of aggression

Never did get a confession

(Flipped out) during a routine group therapy session

When asked «are you scared of the past?»

He jumped up by the window put his chair through the glass

Demented look in his face

Guards took him away put him to bed fully restrained

Didn’t bother drugging him up

The next morning they walked in and saw him covered in blood

Should’ve known from behaviour patterns

That this was a suicide waiting to happen

Life he came to hate with a passion

Shard to the wrist, fatal attraction

Examining the evil deed

There it was on the floor the jagged killer that didn’t flee the scene

Broken Window

Window to the soul, broken

Now his ghost is out in the open