Madhouse Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Madhouse



Madhouse

Neither the sleep was sleep
Nor was that dream, dream
But those stories were true
They matched idea, Freud

In a mad house, imprisoned
Among patients so made up
Like the stories, Queen 999
Innocent hearts flew in pain.

Mess was the system there
Doctor the true sick person
Patients were truly victims
As it is with, ‘political war'

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