Sorcerers apprentice in the Citadel of Magic (clinician in psychiatric hospital)

Iambic meter (ABAC) (8-6-8-6)




Here in the halls of whispering
Among the chosen fair
The sweating walls are glistening
With mania and fear
The cinder blocks and plastering
Absorbed of madness calls
Are screaming silent agonies
Fractured as the painted walls
And in this fair veneer of health
Or healing as it's known
Alchemists called doctors practice
Magic hard as stone
Their capes replaced with white lab coats 
And potions to a pill
Our spells making sterility
Of the torment of the ill
Illusions in these aching halls 
Drive simple minds to crack
And prods, pokes and experiments 
Reveal what our subjects lack
Here in this mighty citadel
A spell lies on the door
Only opens for a conjurer
With magic badge in store
An unblinking eye remembers all 
And watches ceaselessly
These "camera" trolls in every room
Steal away all privacy
And worst is the effect of magic
On the wounded mind
Replaces visions and all hopes
With dullness and deep sighs
What can a sorcerers apprentice 
Hope to augur here
Among the dark powers of his day
In a fort of hope and fear
Here in the halls of whispering
Among the unlucky hosts
The screaming walls are listening
And of men creating ghosts