The Asylum

By: Fee

on the borders of old forsaken dreams

through empty corridors of quaking fear

you still hear the insane screams echoes

and breathe the latent evil that once dwelt here

feel cold steel of rusty slatted bedsprings

frayed straps that only trapped the heart

the walls still bear the splattered blood stains

of teeth gnash marks on wooden gurney cart

while all the ghosts of bottled failed lobotomies

left circle stains on dusty shelves of doom

and the marked burn stains on the carpets

speak of fear in a urine scented common room

but along the trees out of sight of prying eyes

white wooden crosses lean in a ragged row

patients now dust to dust and left to fertilize

blanched wild flowers that in stunted silence grow

tomorrow wreckers will knock the walls down

trucks will haul off mortar, stone and brick

make a park of new grass, young trees and plants

but it will never erase the teardrops of the sick…