You are crazy;
I am mad,
And we are glad
To be not alright.

So we are put here for the mental,
To be shocked into correction,
And be brought into affection,
But we didn't say we didn't feel.

It's not our fault our minds are wild;
We just think so much different.
Our thoughts have other scents,
So they are scared.

They only put us here in fear,
Fear that we are better;
To restrict us from writing letters
About the days of our misery.

No one here is resentful
To the people who put us here;
No one ever sheds tears,
Because we know they were wrong.

Even though we feel pain,
And have been shocked, starved, and medicated to death
Even as we take our last breath,
We remember the short, wonderful life we have lived.

You are crazy;
I am mad,
And we are glad
To be not alright.