brown painted walls,
chipped in random spaces.
the tv turned to something he would never watch.
the sound of his snores occupying the room.
the only other sound is the faint beeping
from the machines in other rooms.
each nurse checking in every few minutes.
not that it mattered.
he wasn't getting better.
we were sitting ducks while he sat in pain.
I hate this place.
Written on the last day I saw my Grandfather awake. I accidentally found this hidden in a journal I've been keeping for the past few years. Feeling sad, but it is what it is.