Asylum Halls of Learning

In halls where shadows stretch and creep, Where minds are bent, not led to sleep, I walk the aisles of cold despair, A patient in a dark affair.The walls, they whisper, soft and low, With secrets only madmen know, Their chalk-stained hands, they trace the lines, Of thoughts confined in twisted minds.The bells that ring, a warning clear, To bind the broken, hold them near, Each lesson, laced with bitter pills, To dull the senses, crush the will.In classrooms cold, where silence reigns, We scribble thoughts like bloodied stains, The ink, it seeps into our veins, Till all that's left are hollow brains.The teachers, wardens of the mind, With sharpened tongues and voices blind, They prod and poke, dissect the soul, Till we’re but shadows in control.Desks are cells where we’re confined, Our spirits shackled, bodies lined, In rows of faces, pale and thin, We rot away from deep within.The rules, like chains, around our throats, They squeeze the breath, the words we spoke, Till all that’s left is just the shell, Of who we were, now trapped in Hell.We wear our masks, our forced grins wide, To hide the fear, the pain inside, But every smile’s a crack that shows, The madness in the mind’s repose. Escape’s a dream, waiting