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Patient 22

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For twenty years I've been afraid.
I locked myself up and never played.
I sit in a padded room now, all by myself
With only a desk and an old shelf.

Etching words in stone,
I sit in this room all alone.
Here, nobody can hurt me.
Nobody like papa or brother Lee.

I've never like bugs.
They don't offer kisses or hugs.
So, I kill them when they crawl.
And I smash them on my wall.

Something has happened to my name.
It began to change, but I feel no shame.
This is the best thing, being dressed in blue.
And I kind of like the new name, “Patient 22.”





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