Locked in this ice cold asylum,
my sanctuary of silence broken
by the crash of glass and steel.
I can only imagine the horror of another
so-called patient ending his or her life on a shard of glass.
Cutting deep through pale skin and vein.
Watching their life flow in small waves away from their body.
Until, like a fragile flame,
their candle is quitely snuffed out.
Then screams followed by laughter as more and more
of the other crazies come across the body.
Finger painting crimson creatures on the walls.
How they dance in the blood,
as it sparkles like vintage wine in the hospital lighting.
My heart aches as I pull my tear stained blanket
over my head and wish it were me comatose on the floor.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Wow
so well structured, love the flow of the poem, really great work
fouzia,
keep it up
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Damn that was good!
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