Lament of a Victim of Insanity

I wish I could say I don't care anymore. That this ceaseless eternity ended
eons ago, but I'm still trapped. I am trapped by my own insanity. An insanity
that they told me I had, when I told them. I made the mistake. The mistake of
whispering my dreams, my wishes and wants... I let myself be heard.
It wouldn't burn so much, it wouldn't slice my feeble existance further
than the bare shreds of my clinging existance, if I didn't still believe.
I still think the same thoughts. The same thoughts that they cannot imagine.
And the only reason I am here, locked away, unarmed, alone, antagonized, is because they can't see the same sight. They put me here because I am different then them.

That knowledge keeps me alive. Knowing I deserve a life, knowing that they took
that life from me because they feared me, it hurts. Flames licking me, burning
on the inside with fire, writhing likes snakes with venom that pierces viens and takes centuries of torture, putting it into action, and then.... death. The sweet cold whisper
brushing against the back of your neck, while angel's tears drip harshly in the
darkness. And all you can hear is that ice cold drip. Ripping through the silence
each time you feel it, a burn that knows no mercy, tearing your heart. In that
moment you think you can't last any longer, that you would rather be teased and
tormented with slivers of insanity, poked and prodded by faceless demons and
nameless devils that cast shadows on your clenched eyelids. But you realize, that
you are still alive. You exist, and you are yourself, and that alone, makes your
life worth living. You win this fight tied down and clothed in white, simply by
existing.