Theme
9:04pm December 1, 2014

The White Institution (written ~2002, events 1999)

I walked down the street
With my eyes on the building of white
I knew they were like me
Autistic and trained not to fight 

They rocked behind bars and
I knew I belonged there not here
Not out on the streets
With the ones who had never known fear

My body moved forward 
To ocean with sand and with stars
But my thoughts, they went back
To the white institution with bars 

As slugs we might be
But the world it had fashioned a shell
Not home anymore
Not here, not on earth, but in hell

madeofpatterns this is my best attempt to recreate from memory the poem I wrote about that white institution with the tiny yards full of wrought-iron bars, and the beautiful gardens that nobody ever actually walked in, that I saw anyway. I can’t find my last post referencing this place or I’d link it. If I ever find the original version (probably in my computer that’s in the shop) I’ll post it if it differs significantly from this version.