Psych Row Pt IV: Reasonable Doubt

I came in, with hopes and dreams,
now all of these, plus two make three.
My only hope now is to just get out,
hopefully alive, but I have reasonable doubt.

Still a long way to go, and further to fall,
and no one to write to and no one to call.
How can they kill me if I'm already dead?
Dead is my name now, just a number instead.

Why is it these four walls put me at ease?
Why do I choose it over a summer breeze?
I'm invisible now, and they pass me right by,
the Prozac don't work now, they just make me cry.

There's a chance I could die here, and never get out.
But anything's possible, with reasonable doubt.