They chart my thoughts
Writing in the margins
Label me unstable
Calm hands, cold and cynical

White coats, dead eyes
Dissecting not with blades
But questions that cut deeper
Deeper than my blades could

I am but a test subject
Observed, not understood
Answers become symptoms
Insane at the very least
Driven to the brink of psychosis

Taking notes just a job
I am studied
Just a case in a folder
Patients not people
Not even human