Spending a month in a hospital teaches you a lot about people.
The doctor that told me to shave my head or she wouldn't treat me,
The nurses that spent forever chatting to me
And giving me supportive advice about how my illness doesn't define me.
The woman who was given a terminal cancer sentence
And chose not to pay attention to it and defied it anyway.
How she sat next to me on my bed,
Told me that all suffering is valid,
And just because I'm not dying, doesn't mean I don't get to complain.
How she complains more about her skin problems
Than she ever complained about her cancer,
And that's OK, because pain rarely follows rules.
I never even learned her name,
But she gave me the words I hold most closely to me
On those days when I want to fall asleep and never wake up.
I'm allowed to scream and shout and rage against the pain
And the unfairness of it happening to me.
I just have to make sure I know where the line is
Between giving my darkness a voice and pitying myself.

the white coat lords,  
the army of nurses, the aides, didn't think
he understood their language

nor did they know
he had been a warrior in his homeland
and bore scars, inside, out

they paid little attention,
as he buffed lackadaisical linoleum, scrubbed porcelain *******,
making them ethereally white

though the amputees,
the hobbled, the battle burned, would wake
to the sound of his labors:

his broom swaying to and fro,
a softer metronome for their ringing ears
a cadence of condolences
for their beating hearts

There is a place on the edge of town,
It's small, it's dark, it will bring you down.
People go there when the clock strikes twelve,
Never again will you see them alive.

It is an old hospital,
For the asylum seekers,
Abandoned and neglected
Just like the reapers,

People will tell you of the screams that can be heard,
From all of the patients that died here.
You will want to run,
But the walls will close,
Keeping you there,
In the asylums doors,

But don't be scared, and don't be alarmed,
You've joined the group,
Of mentally harmed.

I'm peeling the skin off my face
Because I really hate being safe
The normals, they make me afraid
The crazies, they make me feel sane

I'm insane, maybe , I'm mad,
The craziest friend that you've ever had,

You think I'm ******, you think I'm gone,

Tell the psychiatrist something is wrong,

You said I was " Over the bend, entirely bonkers"

You like me best when I'm off my rocker
So I'll Tell you a secret, I'm not alarmed

So what if I'm crazy? The best people are

Where is my prescription?
Doctor, doctor please listen
My brain is scattered
You can be Alice,
I'll be the mad hatter.

You'll try to lock me up,
And tell me to keep my mouth shut,
These visions that I'm seeing are slowly but surely decreasing.

I see a man with yellow eyes,
He's scratching at his own face,
He tells me to run but I know they'll try to chase.

So I stay locked up,
Kept quiet and buckle up,
For the next therapy session,
Where they'll tell me I'm  crazy with discretion.

She's in the hospital for suicide watch because we couldn't help her.
We keep telling ourselves she'll be okay and not to worry about her.
Is she okay?
                No
Yes she is.

I've seen what the urge can do to someone.
I've seen bow bad it can be to their minds.
Is she okay?
                She'll die
Yes she is.

I know how bad it can hit you.
You feel like everything is falling apart because of you.
Even when it's not.

Your parents take some fault.
Just because you're their child doesn't mean they care.
Especially when they blatantly show it.

                Thinking you should go die.
                Thinking you're worthless.
                Thinking you want the attention

Are you okay?
                She's going to--
No...
Ye- Yes you are.

We're worried for you
We're worried you won't make it through society.
You continued to lie to us so we wouldn't worry.
We're always going to worry about you.
No matter if you don't want us to.

You'll be okay
                I won't

You'll b- be okay.
                I won't

You will be okay.
                I will not.

You can't leave.
You will not leave us.

Please be honest and tell us how you feel.
Don't make us feel worthless because we never helped because you said you "were fine".

The day you almost died
Was the worst day of my life
I honestly couldn't imagine
if you were no longer my wife

I saw you lying there
Looking so frail and weak
I leaned over your bed
And kissed you on your cheek

The problem was in your lung
Caused by a blood clot
On the other one
There was a little spot

The news was overwhelming
I honestly must say
I fell onto my knees
And I started to pray

I walked into our house
And you were not there
Sat down on our bed
At your picture I did stare

Put my head on your pillow
Eyes started to well
The lingering scent of you
What a wonderful smell

For a couple of days
It was touch and go
I'd be lost without you
This you had to know

After a risky procedure
And medicine you did take
Along with some help from the Lord
The clot it did break

With a new lease on life
A precious second chance
I will shower you with love
and fill your life with romance

i met your ghost at the waiting area
outside the emergency room
you were sitting on the laps of
weeping mothers and the ghosts of
their children were sitting on yours

they said your touch would feel like bitter snow,
but delicate,
like the drizzle of glass shards
they said your kiss would feel like a collision,
like the reason so many of the casualties around me ended up in
the emergency room in the first place
they said you would make me feel like painting red roses white,
like stitching stars into the shape of your eyes

but your ghost stayed in the waiting area when they wheeled me to the yard
and so i'll never know if
ghosts can see humans too.