Mental Home Memories

At the mental home, every scent, sight, every touch..was a constant reminder of whats its like to be different.

I remember gliding on the linoleum floors and smelling the scent of dead skin.

I didnt think I was crazy..but once everyone tells you your something, you start believing it to.

I had couseling everyday from 4 to 5.

I didnt show up usually..until they said It was that made a difference..but to please them i went and nodded and occasionally said a few words.

What did the know about me?

Why couldnt they just leave me alone?

Im fine on my own..and guess what...I have been for a while

The End

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