Their mouths were laced with optimistic advice
Though after a few days,
It started to sound more pathetic than helpful
Those damn, dull, colorless walls
With matted 5 by 10s of enthusiastic pictures and sentences
It didn’t matter if there was blood smeared all over them,
The patients were always tracing the ground with their tired eyes
As though all the answers they ever needed were there--
The ground like some sort of safety for them
6am screams from another patient (again)
“I’m not Crazy!”
As the walls consumed her crimson-piercing screams
& rotted the paint (more)
We wore glittered masks with our defenses when we arrived
But by noon, it was all about knowing everyone else’s story
And in the end,
From two hospital stays,
All I learned from that God-forsaken place
Is that someone always has it worse.
Author notes
My biggest secret. They thought I was at camp. If they only they knew where I truly was. One can go insane when in the Psych ward or one can believe that they are insane because they are in the Psych ward. But "they" say the politically correct term is "behavioral unit".
A contest entry
- Your deepest darkest secret... by AutumnsFlame.
662 points, ended September 1, 2008, 21 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - prewrites by aeolia.
400 points, ended October 26, 2008, 128 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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Good word choice and imagery, however I'm not a fan of poetry in one stanza, so I think it would be more powerful if you separated it. I also felt that this was more of a rant or story than a poem... it just had that feel to it. Thank you for entering my contest.
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