When you have someone asking you
If you feel suicidal
Eight times a day
You start to feel like maybe you should be
Otherwise…
They would have let you go by now

You blink.
And notice
There are no clocks on the walls
Making you painfully aware
That the ticking sound is just in your head
Trying to cope
Without the security of time

They tell you you have to feel better
Before you can go home
But you have to be home
In order to feel better
You know that.
But you start to wonder
If they’ll ever figure it out

It occurs to you
That this group of strangers
Are now in control of your life
They could lock the door for months
Isolate you from all you know
And tell you it’s for your own safety

You are stuck.

The lights in the hallway flicker
Like the programmed beginning
Of a horror movie
You blink.
And another set of lanyards and clipboards
Are standing in front of you
Asking if you feel like hurting yourself
Or someone else today

No.

It’s getting harder to tell the truth
And the other patients;
Vociferously desperate around you
Are the most intense form of peer pressure

Seconds feel like hours
And days like years
You blink.
And the frustration of keeping your sanity
Drips from your eyes
Your own tears used as evidence
For the lie they want you to admit

Your eyelids droop
Heavy with the exhaustion
Of keeping a sound mind

Either way
You know it’s only a matter of time
Before you blink again.