Part 1:
Good Evening
My name is Roger Blake,
Im a casualty of a critical mistake
Identified as clinically insane
Sectioned, constricted and detained
The last thing I can recollect is
I was being restrained
My mind boggled in such a twist
As i noticed my fellow inmates had slashes across their wrists.
My assurance in the medical assistants hesitated
As I was forced to take
numerous amounts of medication
I've herd they segregated
selective mental patients
One time I caught a look of the room where they’d take them
As I remained patient to watch
my fellow friends get taken
The reasons on why they were taken remain undisclosed
Rumours had it they gave A thousands volts straight to there frontal lobes
They were justified as medical tests
However it was evident that defenceless people
were Being sentenced to their deaths
My thoughts on a escape involved tape wrapped around
my face until my spirit took me
away from this sinister place.
As I Spent night and day
racking my brain to find a way to the light, but still breached by darkness
I remember where I lost my temper
Feeling anchored, with conversations with a psycho
As I scremed is this one sick joke?
Next thing I knew a doctor threw me out a shattered window
I Remember when i Awoke later
in my bed, as my mind cleared
A pain in my side sparking the idea
Of reaching a freedom which looked so close but felt so far
As I look for my espace my eyes forced me to my blood soaked vest
My Heart pounding inside my chest
I Managed to slice my restraints
As i fell down beside my bed
Stood up, and ripped of the wires stuck on my flesh
Climbed the winding vent
entangled in numerous cob webs
I Exited down a flight of steps
Ditched my hospital gown so the K9's won’t recognise the scent
Felt the cold wind on my face
Blinded by the moonlight As I completed my mental prison escape.
Part 2:
His name was Doctor Blake institutionalised and scrutinised
For committing the most Bizarre crimes
Torturing patients numerous times
Till one escaped and brought
the truth to the light
He lost his mind but kept it a top secret
He invented unnecessary methods
of shock treatment for his so called patients
He had no waiting list, just a line full of victims which he killed for his thirst
He was a slave to his hunger, living a reality full of his dreams
As he showed his appreciation By tying them up while inserting
spikes under their skin
His Eyes void of emotion
When caught and questioned on why he did it
he just said the voices had spoken
He was insane, locked in a cell
Amnesia in control of No knowledge of self
Day to day he’d scream about the crimes
Like he didn’t do them,
While Swimming in the depths of depression
Isolated, living on the edge of aggression
We Never got a confession
Just a sample of emotion during a routine group therapy session
When asked “are you scared of the past?”
He flew up by the window threw his chair through the glass
Demented look in his face
Guards took him away while they strapped him to bed fully restrained
However they didn’t bother drugging him up
The next morning they walked in
and saw him covered in blood
They Should’ve known from the different behaviour patterns
That this was a suicide waiting to happen
His life fractioned because of the flooded emotions
while cutting his veins was the fatal transaction
As we recollect his evil deeds
There we see the jagged body of a twisted
murderer that couldn't flee the scene.
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