Pre emptive Strikes

Padded door creaks and
in come the freaks.
The one with a fringe,
one with a syringe,
the bald worthless one,
who still lives with his mum,
the thin one,
the fat one,
the one with a sneer,
one with a moustache
that I'm sure is queer,
the chatty one,
who,
inside my head,
attempts to dispense
a raison d,etre,
the quietest one
who endlessly stares,
who lives in a box,
under the stairs.
The one with three heads
who deals out the meds,
and last but not least,
the one we call beast,
who calls in the night,
with frighteners,
who tightens
the straps
when they're slack
The avengers assemble
and perhaps I tremble,
disassembling,
remembering,
broken
and on my knees,
why the hell
we chose these MPs