Wallace

The End.

My straight jacket fits well.

I\'m in a wall to wall padded cell.

From sanity I have fell.

My mind now in hell.

Shrinks question my mind.

From me nothing they find.

To me they are not humanly kind.

To my scared inner feelings they are blind.

They talk behind my back.

Manners they do lack.

They say I\'m a card short of a full deck.

I say to them what the heck.

They leave and the lights go out.

In the darkness I frightenly shout.

About my future I have doubt.

Alone in a place with no friendly faces about.

The End.