![]() |
Pennhurst State School | | | Forgotten | ![]() |
|
|||
Please remember that the comments posted here are not the opinions of opacity.us or its affiliates.
Comments pertaining to real location names, methods of entering the property, promotions or advertisements, off-topic discussion and general flaming, as well as those submitted under various aliases are subject to immediate deletion and your ip address being banned from this website. By submitting your comment you agree to these terms. Visit the forum for off-topic and general discussion. To prevent your comment from being removed and to help keep this site uncluttered, please read more about comments on opacity.
Memories and stories from past employees, visitors or patients are gratefully welcomed, they help keep these places alive!
![]() |
Pennhurst State School | | | Forgotten | ![]() |
*takes deep breaths and moves on*
I sat in dream one afternoon,
reality in doubt
With eyes closed tight and nodded head,
images about.
I saw a golden mirror
on a wall of deepest black
And as I gazed upon it,
no images came back.
But when I turned to walk away,
it shimmered in its splendor
And revealed itself to be
my lifetime's secret tender.
It showed the times I'd smiled and laughed,
it showed the times I'd won
It showed to me my golden hours,
the times through triumph gone
But woven through the clouds of joy
and mists of exaultation
I found a black and silken cord
in every situation.
I grasped it by its tattered end
and pulled out all the slack,
And within seconds all the clouds
and mist had turned to black.
No more laughter, no more smiling;
lightning filled the skies.
Scenes of horror, scenes of pain.
Tortured, hate-filled cries
Filled the mirror of my life
as new dark times emerged.
I saw the screams that no one saw,
the tears that no one heard.
All the times I was the fool
and blindly followed on.
Then with broken heart and soul,
I cried until the dawn.
How can this be? How is it true?
Was I such the dupe?
Instead of standing high and proud,
I was forced to stoop.
No more the pain, the shocking truth,
this torture to endure.
I'd rid myself of memory,
this evil gone for sure.
So with my unprotected hand
I dealt the fatal blow
And as result the crimson tide
of regret did flow.
But as I stood there staring,
I realized something more.
My life is like that mirror,
shattered on the floor.
haha, you might belong in one of those asylums ~me
7 years bad luck man!
Poem and photo go together so beautifully!
Many of the patient bathrooms there seemed to have a few stalls, not singular like this one.
i have much respect for the news reporter who helped.