Ward of the State

I'm a prisoner of the county
of my thoughts and dreams.
A ward of my state of mind;
Though not voluntarily,
but through a fate of some kind.
Brought to my knees by depression
of a certain superfluous obsession...
I was scratched and bruised,
dazed and confused.
An error in my department of corrections,
my conscience wears uniforms of random selection.
Unconscious of its own afflictions,
My heart measured out wrongful convictions.
Tangled in gross dereliction of duty,
my spirit is forever moody.
I turned loose my heart and soul;
But my brain is in solitary
and my conscience is cold...
Probation's out the window, and there's no chance for parole.
My mind no longer knows what's real,
so my body remains in confinement
while it waits for its appeal...