What they don't tell you-they, the general public, society, doctors, your best friends- Is that a hospital is more than four white walls It exists beyond the doctors in starched coats hanging to their knees Beyond the mutterings of schizophrenic people as they walk by Beyond the daily pills given and tongues pulled up directly after Beyond the strip searches, the vitals taken, the evening bed-checks A hospital lives in stigma Stigma where you are the outcast, the Mental patient, the Crazy one. A hospital lives in your mind, In the tormented nightmares you wake up from Shaking and drenched in sweat Sheets twisted between white fists A hospital lives in your gait The way you swish your hips away from people sometimes Because you don't want them to know your darkest secret, Know where your barriers form, where they wall the world around you. A hospital lives in the faint scars attached to your wrists, Your stomach Your thighs Your calves Your heart A hospital becomes a sort of monster in this way It rots in your memory Tells you about that one time when things almost ended Tells other people that you are off, but not in a way anyone can see Unless they look hard enough A hospital Is supposed to heal wounds, Not Create them.
This just kind of popped into my head. **** mental health stigma, amiright?