The white walls forever binding, forever staying in a part of my mind, yet enclosing me within. As i am enraptured in the industrial brick, locked in with no one to keep me company but the lunatical writings graced upon the walls by my predecessors and the smell of fecal matter and urine, time loses all meaning.
The window ingrained in the steel blue door forever mocking me, knowing i can never peer out, due to the covering they placed upon it, no matter how much they can look in. I hear haunting screams echoing down the halls, lingering indefinitely in my memory, pushed to the very edge and seemingly taking an aspect of myself there with it.
they serve me a strange paste, reeking of meat. This paste was once not to different from myself, a living, concious organism locked away in a facility, a factory farm. The only difference between them and i really, is that it is there body which is consumed by the masses, but what the masses consume from me is my mind.
i draw on the walls with the broken leads of pencils, creating for myself a garden of imagination married with contorted memory, filled with flora and fauna. What i created was a shadow of where i was before i was brought to this place. A shadow, of hawaii.
I begin to come up with ways to escape this place, until i become known as the one they have to keep an eye on. But it isnt them who succeed at bringing about my recapture, but rather the pull of the drugs they gave me. I begin to feel heavy urges for those doses they would serve me on a silver platter in my guilded cage of hallucinogens time and time again, and time and time again i betrayed myself and returned, willingly going behind the walls once again, in exchange for the potent elixir.
Although i had learned to escape my physical prison, for brief moments of satisfaction and the stimulation my brain craved, moments of something other than the shadows of my own mind dancing on the walls, those shadows followed me out of that prison and they still follow me to this day. As a little girl, i understood my own mortality, the moments in my cell were pure agony, as i was entirely capable of understanding that i was
In a life of mortality, with only so much time, and that life was more rare than any riches, but that this was in fact, bits and pieces of my priceless time that was being chipped away from. I understood that as the clocked ticked away so did my childhood, the moment who i was should be molded, and i felt myself becoming more and more, hopelessly malformed.
Screams of agony coming from myself, like an unbridled explosion that not myself, nor anyone, could fully control began to escape from my throat, as the screams burned and scraped, forcing their way out of my throat. I felt myself being slowly contorted into a malformed being of ailment and suffering, with the belief that i was powerless to do anything.
And so i sang. I sang myself into an escape to another place, a dimension of sound. I sang and learned to use the echoes on the walls as an instrument over the years, and as i released the melodic tunes, it soothed my own sorrows, even if for just a moment, and eventually it quieted the other children in the prisons adjacent to my own, and they quieted down, and listened to my song.
Eventually i learned that the people who brought me here thought i was intelligent due to a test they had me take, and ever since then, i had seen any expression of learning understanding as a danger to myself and others around me.
