you see them on the street
in slippers
and pajamas,
a band around their wrist,
maybe a long grey overcoat
worn like a cape.
they've climbed out
a window
of their own personal
asylum.
they look scared,
they're moving like
squirrels in the street
with dark eyes
frenetic feet.
they know their time is short
on the outside,
but they no
longer know which
direction to go,
what to do with their lives.
the net upon
them, came way too soon.
no longer knowing
a truth from a lie.
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