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
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.