Page 33 - Musings 2021

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The Deranged
Karthik B Nair
2017A4PS0229P

The asylum was no place to seek asylum, it was no place of refuge.

Trapped within the bare walls and the bare floors of a garbage bin,

Wherein the ones deemed incongruous filth are left to rot in.
No right to leave, no right to refuse the poison that slows my mind,

To the point of numbness, indifferent to the murderous screams around me,

I had wished for death often, to rest my face in the soft embrace of a coffin. At times, my

rage broke free from the shackles of the devious poison,
And the wicked wizards circumvallated me, crushing me with their electric wands.

A new face greeted me one morn, a gleeful dame, free of any scorn,

Her amber eyes soothed my soul, as she scribbled in her red daybook,
She rued the Room of Torture, and proceeded to gently reassure me,

Handing me a glass vial of Ambrosia, Hygieia faded into obscurity,

Every day her gift arrived unfailingly, and one day I woke up unlike any other.

My eyes coming to focus on the naked bulb, the brume in my head lifted,
And lo! I had awakened from an agelong dream, my thoughts clear as the Blue Lake,

I stared out of the window, into the poppies rustling in the squally showers.

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