the highest security prison in the state of mind - poem

my mind is full,
yet i draw a blank.
withering slowly from within,
is how i live the rest of my days.
how was it this life that i had a hand to create?

this is where white noise and calamity lives.
it doesn't matter whether i am awake or asleep,
i am trapped in this space.
im not sure how to feel of this gruesome existence,
or how to assure myself of my place.

if this is fate, as i suspect time and time again,
it must be having a grand time, much to my chagrin.
so is the devil, i presume;
sliding the beads of the abacus,
unrushed whilst awaiting my doom.

my head is in his hands, not mine.
they fill my head with fear,
and my mind follows suit.
so the land of limbo is my home.
and when i close my eyes, a final time,
i fear where i may go.