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There is general treatment and there is my pain regimen. The doctor will do what they’re most comfortable with. The doctor will move at a glacier pace. The doctor will recite what he assumes to be policies that fit their corrupt agenda. The doctor abuses his power .  The doctor is cold and insensitive.  The doctor only connects me to a dollar. Doctor Dr. Dollar dollar bad karma.
01/26/21? In between a major shift change at my local hospital, one doctor thought it appropriate to judge me and deny me of what is written in my  pain chart.
They surveyed my every mood
They established surveillance
Harshly punished defiance
Had me locked up, well, for good

They forged ideas in my mind
Had me believe I was blind
Shaped me into a pariah
Repeated they were the Messiah

Repeated for hours on end
A virus had plagued the cell
To this litany without end
No one was safe, they could tell

Words echoed into my room
We were either set for doom
Or grateful to be rescued
By their remedy, they cooed

My every step was measured
Some rebelled, they were injured
One mile is all we had left
To run and not go bereft

While the media explained
The pandemic knew no end
They monitored our thinking
A ceaseless, clueless talking

If you believed me to be
Some prisoner in a facility
Well, I am very sorry
I am just, like you and me,

A human being in 2020...

11:23-11:40 pm
Nancy
The idea of this poem came this morning from thinking about our situation during Covid 19, depicting it like a prisoner’s new habits.
I will not state my views on this nor say whether or not I support the mainstream views. Poetry is all about creating a space for thinking and awakening.
Guntang Jul 2020
in succulent folds of solitude
a dark cell mocks the damp
as putrid bricks of emptiness
join the torrid screaming
of rusted bars
and the sinister creep
of mildew
as they waltz together
merrily
in the soggy shadows
of my sighs
DIPTI DHAKUL Nov 2019
Living with the Living cell(virus) ,
is known as Dying
Living with the Living cell(virus) =Dying
.
.
.
© Feelings Coated
eli May 2020
The only cells
In my body that
I love are
The dead ones
Kîłł më
Wickus May 2020
Twenty twenty
The world is sick
Locked in my room
And trapped in my head

My thoughts
My eternal prison cell
Screaming at four walls
PLEASE LET ME OUT
It’s those goosebumps
From your sweet and soft kisses
In my neck
Which make
Every cell of my body
Feel so alive
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