Lobotomy

The dream of reason births the beasts,

In memory's corners, what truths are released?

Labyrinths of psyche, images misled,

Not every brave soul dares venture ahead.

Mind therapists, like butchers of thought,

Cutting through living, revealing what's fraught.

Secrets and treasures from shadows they pull,

Caring not for the patient, curiosity's cruel.

The saw starts to buzz, the lid will be pried,

Anesthesia's not needed; the senses have died.