I would love one day to see,
A psychiatric hospital
Painted up
As nicely
On the anniversary
Of the British invasion.
My body feels the attacks,
The utter fear of being
Knocked down, in such pain,
Unable to communicate
Or stay awake.
The memory locks me
Like an animal on a road
With headlights in its eyes.
I wait for such validation,
But who would do such a dare?
For psych survivors,
The fear is too great,
The fear is too great,
Of being locked up and tortured,
Without a habeas corpus.
We keep within the law
And still get done in.
So, how much worse would it be
If we did some graffiti?
We’d be too easy
For the labs to target
As a perpetual animal for their profits
Painted up as ‘unruly’ and ‘sick’
Needing to be ‘managed’,
White-gaffa on our mouths,
Ropes around our internal organs,
To keep our emotions numb,
Our thoughts quiet and scared.
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