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Dark Poetry #3
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Mental Hositpal For The Sane
| Dark Poetry #3 |
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Mental Hositpal For The Sane |
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TwoSided Junior Member
since 2003-07-06
Posts 19 |
Sitting alone in this room with its padded walls of pillow soft security, I begin to think about who put me here, My friends who I spent my free time with, At the movies the silver screen in front of me flickering, Then I think about my Mother, I think about her frail tiny body and how that disease ate her from the inside, First her organs, then her flesh, then her hair, then her mind, then her soul, Then I think about my Father and his bottle of Rum, How he’d drink away his problems instead of facing them, I think about my Sister with her blaring music shaking the walls when I was trying to sleep, Then I think about my Brother and all his sluts with there tight cloths and painted faces, I think about lots of things, I think about the birds in the court yard, I can see them through these barred windows, I think about the needles stinging bite and the drugs heavy fever, Maybe I think too much about things that aren’t normal, That’s why I’m in this jacket holding me tight, I’ll just sit here in the sliced sun light, It comes through my window you know? That one tiny window that’s my only link to the outside world, I can hear them now the doctors outside trying to figure out what’s wrong with me, They don’t know that I’m ok, Just on the inside, Maybe if I sit real still they’ll leave, The door opens and they come in, There’s that needle again another drug to wake me up, The old nurse glares at me from the door way, She say’s I could be real pretty if I’d eat, I don’t need food; I don’t need to eat, I can do that all in the inside, There gone those doctors and the glaring nurse, I’m alone again with the shadows on my walls, There my friends like my memories, Some times I like to make up stories in my head, Ones about a Mommy that was in good health, And a Daddy who didn’t drink, But that’s all in my head, I’m alive you see, Not on the outside but on the inside, I’m the doll on your shelf the one you thinks alive but just doesn’t show it, I’m like the toys on your floor silent and still but so alive, Look inside my eyes and maybe you’ll see the life, But until you can look that deep I’ll be still, In my dreams inside me I exist, And so shall it ever be. The End |
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| © Copyright 2003 TwoSided - All Rights Reserved | |||
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EagleScorpion Senior Member
since 2000-03-08
Posts 1644Here, Now, Forever |
ahh that doesnt sound fun.. striaght jackets are baaaaaaaad freedom goooooooood |
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Dark Kisses Member
since 2001-06-24
Posts 364Flat lands of Kansas |
Okay maybe I am *insane* but this was the most beautiful write that I have read in a long time. So full of emotions and thoughts. You are a wonderful writer  A friend, like a candle, is most needed in the darkness. [This message has been edited by Dark Kisses (07-07-2003 11:23 PM).] |
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Songbird Member Elite
since 1999-12-15
Posts 2184Missouri |
Keep writing and posting and I will read. This is a very interesting piece of work. |
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TwoSided Junior Member
since 2003-07-06
Posts 19 |
I did post another poem...but it was taken down and my creativty opressed....but I'll post another one and maybe this time it'll be left alone. |
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