A poem I wrote on a late shift, after chatting with a forensic patient. His crime is murder and his diagnosis is Schizophrenia. Every day he waits, to move on from his past - stuck in a system which cannot fiscally afford to support him and so many others with the necessary rehabilitation. His treatment is medication, which is almost rendered null and void by the institution he is stuck within - sapping what remaining sanity he has left.
Out of my mind
Andrew Kimpton
Through the cold breeze of winter and as the summer bears down on my brow
The answer I seek for remains to be now
Today not tomorrow, nor the day after that
The replies that they give, like whips to my back
Soon my friend soon, as I wait and I wait
My life now on pause, in the hands of dear fate
My hands want to work and my feet yearn to walk
My heart full of love, but here I just talk
To the mirror at night and the shadows at day
Its the best I can do to keep demons at bay
They whisper they shout! They cloud up my mind
They've taken from me what is rightfully mine
Stripped naked before you; my sanity gone
You see not a man here - just the monster I've become.
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