The ghosts of my past are coming back to get me,

I can never forget my past sins.—

My blood reeks of horror and pain,

My body thrums with fearful anticipation—

Am I crazy,

Or am I just paranoid?—

Where am I?

Oh goddesses and gods, where?—

Falsely smiling men in white coats pat my back,

“Good girl,” they say, all the while injecting medications in me—

I try hard to get away,

But no matter what I’m trapped—

People say I’ve done mad actions,

Like kill my lover ruthlessly while we made love—

Oh no, can it be true?

The blood on my hands are obvious to me—

Oh what have I done?

Why did I kill my love?—

What has happened to my sense?

What has happened to me?—

Then I realize where I am,

It’s called the nuthouse to some—

Hell to others,

Others like me, suffering from terrible sins—