Exception, exactly what is it?
Do I want to possess it?
Is that the true reason I escaped to this place?
All my questions are unanswered.

White walls, let them contain me.
So plain, simple, am I like these walls?
White walls, so lonely they are.
Where is the color to make them feel secure?
I crave color, but I go through so many.
Maybe I should just stay white.

Truly this place is my haven,
where needles rip through skin and machines beep their secrets.
They tell who they have murdered and who they have saved.
Will they save me?
More so, do I want to be saved?

I'm embarrassed now.
Am I pleading for attention? Exception?
That just brings me to hte beginning of my thoughts once again.

My mind, is it too full?
Is that the reason why it races with thoughts at paces no man can endure?
The answer to my problem, to drain out the knowledge and feelings it contains like blood that pours from an open wound.
Is my wound too great to heal?
Will the blood i ooze ever scab?

I am talking too much, annoying you,
pushing you away, but that is my one goal.
For like white walls, I am used to loneliness.
I, unnoticed for the beauty and complexity that that lies within me.
I am a plain white wall.
I wish you would truly look at me and see that.

Yet again, I don't.
Judgement is one thing I despise,
the reason I fled.
It is the one thing that brings paranoia to run through my veins.
My smell, my looks, my choices, are they wrong?
I guess that is for you to judge.

Weirdly, I don't care for your opinion.
I care for nothing.
Like a machine I do my biddings and my business in this world with no emotion or recognition.
Emotion is a word with no definition in my dictionary of reality.

I lay here still with no answers to my questions.
The machines keep their chatter as if discussing a solution.
Have they made their decision?
With one last beep the line goes straight.
I guess one of my many questions has been answered.