I was ten the first time they shaved my head and oiled it
and burnt it as proof of their diagnosis.
Mother was watching that day through a tiny window and
I could see my reflection bleeding in her eyes.
Then White light so WHITE everything disappeared but pain
and I have not seen my mother, since.
Now, there are new technologies to prove my madness and
keep me here as a specimen of their diagnosis.
They explain in tongues to fool themselves, not me; I know
better.
They have too much at stake to ever let me go.
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