Psych Row Pt III: My Turn

I've been patient and done my time,
yet I'm still here scribbling rhymes.
It's been too long since I've seen the sun,
and even longer since I've had fun.

The hole is my home, in S. H. U.,
through a tiny window, a brick wall is my view.
My patience ran thin a week ago,
I'm at my cracking point, my head's gonna blow.

Why was I put here, where punished people sit?
Insulted, yelled at and treated like shit?
When is it my turn to leave Psych Row?
Or am I stuck here forever? I just don't know.