In just three short lines, this haiku-like poem sketches a cold, impersonal place. The title, "Institutional," and the "white hall" suggest somewhere like a hospital or clinic, though the poem never says so outright. That is my reading of the imagery, not something stated. The whiteness feels blank and sterile, a space where nothing personal belongs.
The speaker says "we," so this is a group experience, not a single voice. These people "complain of disorders," a phrase that sounds clinical, as if their troubles have already been turned into official categories. Then comes the quiet, striking last line: "in borrowed clothes." Whatever they wear isn't really theirs, which hints at lost individuality, as though identity has been handed out along with the uniform.
The mood is flat, detached, and a little uneasy. The speaker doesn't openly protest or show strong emotion. That restraint makes the scene feel more bleak, as if everyone has simply accepted it.