My suicidal cure (part 6)

Dream

Why must they be so vivid?
Always taking me back in time,
To those days I was made to suffer.
See them still, all in white,
Dragged from my family.
Crying, screaming, pleading!
Taken away!
Locked up,
As if I were mad!
Head doctors examined,
Found me normal,
Just wayward, lost.
But no, they would not let me go!
Kept on proding, testing,
Till they found...the doctor!
The one who gave them their wished for verdict!
Suicidal, he said,
I have his cure, he proclaimed.
Then I was lost...
Injections, medications, even shocks,
Nothing did he hold back,
All the while he bombarded my mind,
With phsyco babble.
Changing me forever!
I watched helplessly as my innocence fled,
Leaving me to die slowly,
While watching his child grow within my mind.
I hid,
Suffered the pain,
The humiliation,
Degraded to nothing more than a trained monkey!
I wallowed in loathing whilst lucid,
Plotting, planning my minds re taking.
I miss what is gone...
All that remains is his...
Beast!
Chained with me,
With only room for one.
I must feed it,
To appease it,
So it sleeps,
Allowing me peace,
To lead a normal life.
I am it and it is me,
We dance in a sick symbiotic salsa,
Without each other...we would be dead.
I cannot kill me,
It will not allow it.
It toys with me,
So I play...
Hoping, praying...
It will slip up...
So someone can kill me.
I hate it's rules.
We both do not want to go back,
To the white padded room,
With the cursed white jacket,
That holds us in place...
So I play...
Whenever I wake from this dream,
I let it play...