Liability – a poem

They take you in by force. Some nurses and policemen.
Accompanying you to your new abode,
a prison that isn’t called by that name.
Collocated. Robbed of your freedom.
You acted a bit weird,
too much for society to handle.
Maybe you showed your butt in public,
as means of saying “fuck you!”.
Or you yell at yelling voices in the middle of the night.
Take fright,
tell dose you properly.
More medication then you can hold in your trembling hand.
The moronic activities to reintegrate you.
Playing with finger paint and glue.
Or a healthy workout that pains your feeble heart,
there are rules.
No drinking, no drugs.
It can’t be to pleasant in here,
of course this is still a clinic.
One with barbed wired and an electrified fence.

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