The home for the Bewildered is an otherworldly place
Where parallel dependencies survive
Emphatic warped surrendering of dignity and grace
Lies down beside the will to be alive

The doors swing only one way. There’s no pardon or appeal
The cell that is your own’s not called a cell
Upholders in frustration form part of the ordeal
When you’d only love to tell them ‘go to Hell’

Where aspiration used to grow there’s now only a void
Is it any wonder anger wants its place
Dispersion of character while midered and annoyed
All subjugate the need for saving face

The clocks they slow right down again, returned to childhood pace
When you thought you had lost regard for time
Triggers of nostalgia may provide a fleeting trace
The last vestige of anything sublime

(c) Rhymeclub.com