“Psychological Evaluation” – Poetry  

Poetry excerpt from Demonic Lulladies.

© S.B. “LullaDIEs”

I’m not insane.” I say to him,
The therapist in the chair.
He replies, “Your outlook’s grim.”
This conversation’s far from fair.

Tell you what, lets take a test.
He says as he leans towards me,
Ink blot images slide across his desk,
As he smiles at me with glee.

The smirk disappears with my next move,
As I topple the desk in his lap.
An attendant appears and I’m removed,
Forced to take a nice, long nap.

Days go by trapped within pale pastel walls,
Choking down a diet of pills and jello,
All around the shadows slither and crawl,
Paralyzed, I watch them e x p a n d and GROW.

Trapped with myself, in perfect solitude,
I try to remember what has value….
Within my mind this fear is tattooed.
Eyes wide, I remain still as a statue.

These murky figures reach for me with barbed tentacles,
I know it’s just a side effect from the drugs.
These medications are unthinkable,
My reality they chemically obstruct.

Nothing is clear, it’s all a bit Fűźž¥.
I think someone said I had a phone call?
İț’§ Hąż¥, Ąńð tH€ WøRd§ jUmßLę r0ůGhł¥,
I can’t even make it down the hall.

Days pass by,
I feel like I died,
Like these little pills have won…

I’m not violent if tranquilized,
A soulless pile of blah is what I’ve become.
My ailment white coats want to categorize,
But my insanity they cannot expunge.

A couple days to recoup from the drugs,
And socialize with the others labeled lunatic.
I feel like I’m stuck in a bad paradox,
Like this moment is purgatory; symbolic.

Checkers, Chess, Backgammon, and Dominoes,
Played with those people truly estranged.
Poker, Go Fish, and Slap Jack, a psychotic casino,
Child games played by the elderly and crazed.

Some remain trapped within their own minds,
Muttering incoherent phrases.
Others spirits have slowly declined,
They got lost in societies mazes.

Most realize no one understands,
That they will forever be a “patient“.
Our general diagnosis offends,
Locked away for being different.

I’m not crazy.” I say to her,
The psychiatrist in the room.
I didn’t sat that,” she assures,
But her words reek with my impending doom.

She adds, “Admit it, you can be quite erratic.”
But I shrug it off and sigh,
Everyone alive has bad habits.
…. Shes not amused by my reply.

I swear they purposefully provoke me,
Voices tell me this place must be purged.
I gouge her eyes; to judge she needs to see.
For me, the attendant once again did emerge.

She’s deranged and delusional“,
They write within their notes.
I laugh like a maniac, putting on a show.
To the surface my madness floats…

Only through deception can I earn salvation,
From my hell, this Psychological Evaluation.


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