I’m afraid my time is coming near
back to the hospital I’m sure to go
if I stay home I’ll surely disappear
and from these wrists the blood will flow

I hate the process about to come
I’ve been down this road too many times
first in the ER they’ll treat me like chum
as if being suicidal were some sort of crime

I’ll end up spending hours in there
going over my story time and time again
the doctors won’t even act like they care
then tell me I’m transferring, but not say when

Once I arrive on the hospital’s unit
there’s only more questions to be asked
making my life feel like it’s on audit
continuing to tell stories of my past

The next day I’ll get hackled by people I know
asking me why I’m back for the fourth time
they always seem to make me feel low
making my healing an uphill climb

I’ll spend days in there, maybe even weeks
the longest I’ve gone has been three
my son will come to visit, and he’ll weep
not knowing Mom almost went on a killing spree

I don’t want to go in to this place
I don’t want to deal with the hassle
the doctors, the people, it’s all a waste
but it’s my safe haven, my castle

For inside those walls I cannot cut
nor can I hang myself with a noose
there is no filth, no grime, no ****
and my pills are not laying around loose

As much as I dread the process
I do know what is right for me
maybe it’s time to confess
I need another trip to KBMC