my fingers stars tapping against the cold granite floor
and i sit and wait
and i wait
so patiently, it kills me
not the waiting part,
well, that too
the knowledge of knowing
what i'm waiting for
could either bring me
immense joy or sorrow
I'm chained to this wall,
A belt round my neck,
Tongue tied, cannot call,
My heart's a ship wreck,
Sunken to the soul,
Where no light enters,
Just like this hell hole,
Where insanity centres,
Losing their patience,
With nurses incapable,
Of treating our minds,
The pain in our veins,
Or pain they can't find,
"Hopeless" they claim,
But in this darkness,
Fear is controlling,
Just like the madness,
Existing in the nursing,
And pain turns to death,
As rain turns to tears,
While they take their last breath,
For screams that last years
In a bustling bus lingered a vacuous seat.
'She's impure,' they proclaimed; indiscreet.
The poor woman wept- shedding tear after tear.
'Don't sit next to her,' they warned with a sneer.
The wide-eyed girl looked on in curious worry,
As the fierce conductor tried to make the woman scurry.
The amused passengers laughed on encouragingly
As he tugged at her bag, her hand, even her dignity.
Spurned by the hospital; in society she had no place
For she had not the money to be referred to as a 'case'.
Her sole possessions- her disease and her fright.
The doctorless patient drowned in her ceaseless plight.
Melancholia stared deep into the girl's wide eyes.
They welled with desolation as she heard the cries.
Her dream of being a doctor would soon come true,
But oh doctorless patient, what will become of you?