Social Control

Locked in a temperamental room

he glances to inspect the walls,

just as the ceilings start closing in.

It’s never comfortable

being told there is nowhere to go,

just as you’re standing there

sadly, the floor is ripped away.

Void of all his safety nets,

he has only had himself to depend on

and it’s never been a safe place.

Important to keep the screams to himself,

the streets are his only real redemption,

if only he could escape right now.

In the opinion of his inspectors,

the so-called doctors try and fix him

by doctoring away his only chance.

He begs for someone to trust in him,

swearing, he can take care of himself,

no one can believe in him anymore

with too many let downs and setbacks

to count in one lifetime.

He begs and pleads for his release

and the louder her pleads

the further away their deafness grows.

They hold all the cards to his freedom,

the problem is time, and all the influences.

It would be easy to slip up and lose him,

the doctors have tried to limit his access

he is still someone’s son albeit lost.

Maybe the solution is to simply release him

let him drift back to his delusional world,

after all, it’s the only real place

that makes perfect sense to him.

We could force him to conform

to learn all our rules again,

but by then though,

we would no longer

recognize him.