A melodic meld of comments, history, and empathetic pain in response to David Attias’s conditional release from Patton state psychiatric hospital.
Once upon a time,
State institutions
Changed on a dime,
Before solutions –
New ways to care –
Even existed,
Like a playground dare,
To live with the twisted.
Pretending family,
Would be prepared,
To offer amnesty,
And risk being snared,
And that the ill ones,
Would want their advice.
“They aren’t loaded guns.
They want to be nice.”
And yet tragedies,
Began to occur,
When certain fallacies,
Became some brain’s chauffeur,
And suddenly insanity,
Was an excuse for crime,
And the only way humanity,
Would make the ill ‘do time’.
But eventually,
They were again deemed fit,
To live mostly free,
With medicated wit.
“No need for locked doors,
If trained to pop pills.
Through board games and chores,
We’ll see if they’re still ill.”
And so optimism,
Became the prescription,
To avoid a schism,
Of inner conviction,
For Angels of Death and
Vipers of Vindication
With the upper hand –
Luxurious litigation.