"An unofficial lobotomy" By Ben Goode 2020 (c)

It's hard to come out from the darkness. 
Those dreaded corridors of limbo.
Emerging from an everlasting stillness of non contemplation.
Where thoughts are frozen. 
An unbreakable delirium.
Separated like mindless drones, and treated no better. 
With a fatigue so heavy, and dull. 
"Don't dare suggest anything, you can't change what's in place."
Shackling securely every free thought.

What kind of hell is this?
And how did I get here? 
Was I captured or convinced? 
Locked up in your mind as if you have been imprisoned.
An unofficial lobotomy. 
Are we actually talking at all? 
Or screaming from within, with what we thought we said?

Ignored and shunned like worthless cattle.
Prodded and pushed to limits of tolerance. 
Bottled up. But the cork is broken. 
Burning fury like an exhausted candle. 
How much longer will the fuse of the time bomb burn?

Bullied, and made to feel inferior.
"Creative thought is irrelevant!"
You can't think, or even show individuality.
"Don't laugh or talk." 
"Don't read or get any ideas." 
"Be silent and go to your own corner." 

God forbid there be any happiness.
Time lingers like a personal hell.
Punishing in an isolation so vast that you lose your personality.
Who was I before this?
Can I come back or have I been lost forever? 
Obliged by the commitments of life. 
Where can I go next?