White washed walls

The smell of Anaesthetic. .

     . . .Creeped in through the dirty white walls

               Of Ward 9E

The stiff white sheets,

        Scratched her chin,

as she tried to curl up.


The woman who lay next to her.

                       Breathed,
                         Deeply,
       Inhale
             Exhale
                   Inhale
                         Exhale.

She decided to waste her minutes,

            Counting the blessed breath,

Of the woman beside her.


Hoping it would Hypnotise her,

         Into some Deep unconscious

Where Prince's would fall in love with her,

        And whisk her away,

                  From the stomach pains.


          Inhale,
                 Exhale,
                        Inhale,
                               Exhale.

42
43
44

         She needed sleep.
         She needed it to bad.
         
            But there was no knife to slip under.

No nurse sat,
              No lady with a lamp,
                                   No one to hold her hand,

Just the Stiff body next to her,

          Inhale,
                 Exhale,
                        Inhale,
                               Exhale.

79
80
. . .

81.


No little white pill,
                     To take away her pain.


No nurse could hear,
                     Her shrieks of Pain,
The lifeless form of Breathing,

       Inhaling,
                 and exhaling,
                               
                       Couldn't hear,

The piercing shrieks,

The chocking tears.

                      That she locked up inside her.


     For all the little white pills in the world.
                        Nothing could take away that pain.


          If only she knew that,
                            Before she downed 500.