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Taylor Jones Dec 2014
Where I worked, I was quite content
To help people was most relevant

My favorite was a young-little boy
Everyday held utmost joy

His smile was wide and missing teeth
Covered by curled lips acting as a sheath

His hair was once orange and red
Replaced by brown he said he wanted mine instead

He'd run his hands through his artificial curls
Excited he spun his two wheels in whirls

I'd push him down the hallway in his chair
His loving parents waiting to meet him there

They smiled every time they said goodbye
When the mother turned I could hear her start to cry

I took him back to his room
When out the window were stars and moon

Every night he asked me not to leave
I would stay there until he sleep

Most nights he'd wake up in pain
His tears for release a permanent stain

This boy suffered an incurable disease
All he wanted was a sense of ease

Multiple needles stuck in his arm
I.V. fluids doing no good nor harm

One night instead of asking me to stay
Instead he asked if I'd take him away

To a place where he could feel no hurt
A place where all was new and divert

I stood in silence within the door
A hesitant smile I gave once more

Go to sleep and when you wake
Somewhere new you will stay

That was the last smile I saw him grin
Before eager sleep took over him

I fought the tears as I held the plug
No more pain for my little bug

Questioning if what I did was right
But the young-little boy has peaceful sleep tonight
punk rock hippy Nov 2014
I'm getting desperate cuz I'm getting distant.
The royal coachmen is the trailer park I used to live in.
Pinecones, stray cats and the candy man.
In the kitchen I dug a hole for a mouse to live in.  
For God's sake momma, could you puke a little quieter, don't let dad know you're sick cuz this house isn't a home when you're gone.
Cold mornings ****** doo blankets and hospital beds.
Dad tells me mom is sick again.
The hospital is no place to live in.
God ****** dad step up, make this a place to live in.

At 5 years old, my momma asks her momma to move in.

I'm getting distant cuz I'm getting desperate.
A little town named Charleston.

When you walk up the side walk and you see the willow, just know it's weeping because it's heard everything.  

Just to let you know there's a piece of glass in the side walk, not diamond.
I know that cuz I bent too many butter knives trying to make a fortune.

Yellow walls, barn cats and god.

It took me 12 years to find somewhere to believe in.
Home challenge

I forced myself to write this
I hate writers block
Shalini Nayar Nov 2014
These walls have witnessed too much:
Fallacies hang on chipped paints,
Too weighty for their own self-murders,
Forming a plastic smile, remaining incumbent.
Air conditioned with rife medicinal regrets,
Coldly wafting in its nonchalance,
Armoring itself for another wave.
This time, the finality catches its last breath
Dyeing the molecules with dying grace
Like an ouroboros forking its venomous tongue on its own end,
Tasting not death, but imminent immortality.
Jared San Miguel Oct 2014
To choose a place to place your final wish.

Where death is a closer friend.
You touched the door to the other side.
The **** beckoned, like you didn’t expect.
Your shadows gave you the key.

It’s real. You know it better than most.
The most real the idea has ever been.
But you threw off the covers
and pulled the needles from your veins.
The visage came and went
like our copies in the days sun.

It burned a hole in the fabric of us
like a meteor in the heavens.

Skipping, dancing lines define
alive, as if that could suffice.
That bed made your last beat
something to strive to prolong.
A place to place your final wish.

Wish, kiss, miss, resist, persist.
Grieve, leave, heave.
Alive.
chris m Dec 2013
Squeaky wheel chairs
And graying gray hairs
Walk hand in hand
Down hospital halls
Blinding white lights
And lonely black nights
We pay the cost
Beloved ones lost
Tiled white floors
And black numbered doors
Old painted walls
Line hospital halls
Waiting for doom
Wait in small rooms
Dripping IV’s
And color TV’s
Lunches on trays
And flower displays
Candy machines
And everything’s clean
As I walk down these hospital halls
Tiffany Sep 2014
I pace along the cold, sterile halls, the stench of cleaning supplies and death invading my senses. I struggle to keep my breathing even. I can’t break down here. I have to keep it together. I can feel the burn of the nurses’ sympathetic glances like an iron, leaving their marks of pity seared into my flesh. Their hushed whispers drift to my ears and I clench my eyes against the tears threatening to stream down my face.

They don’t know what they’re talking about. They don’t know about the promise you made me; that when this was all over we’d walk out of this cesspool of disease together. I take a deep breath and lean against the wall for support. My heart feels as though its on the verge of shattering, each breath sends waves of piercing pain into my chest. I wrap my arms around myself, hoping to hold myself together, to keep the pieces of my soul from crumbling apart.
The ring resting on my left hand seems to weigh a thousand pounds, as I look down at the diamond glimmering weakly under the fluorescent lighting. I stare at that ring, searching for the answers of what the future holds for us.

I’m still staring at that **** ring when the doctor finds me.

“Mrs. Payne?” I hear a voice call gently. I jump slightly, looking up into a pair of concerned grey eyes.

“It’s Ms. Roberts,” I correct him softly. “We’re getting married in the fall.” my voice is so quiet, I’m not sure if he heard me or not. I’m not sure why, but I have to make sure he understands when the wedding is; so no matter what he tells me, he knows you’ll be there to take me as your wife in just a few weeks.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Roberts,” he says. “If you follow me, I’ll take you to your fiance.” I nod my head robotically and walk stiffly beside him through the double doors which had been sealed shut for what seemed an eternity. He leads me to a closed door and pauses before turning the handle. He studies my face as words pour from his mouth and I nod my head methodically, not hearing a syllable. All I can think of is you waiting on the other side, with that crooked grin you save just for me.

“Do you understand what I’ve told you ma’am?” the doctor asks.

“Of course,” I say, smiling weakly and he frowns slightly but finally opens the door. I rush inside and with one look at the bed I feel my stomach drop and the world spins around me.

Your skin is deathly pale, lacking the natural glow that always seems to surround you. Tubes and wires connect you to the many machines sitting nearby, almost as if you’re a human pin cushion. I move to take a step forward and feel my knees buckle.  The doctor grabs me around the waist and leads me to the chair by your side. I sit down heavily and vaguely hear him mention that he’ll be back in a moment. It’s as if my entire world is collapsing in this one moment.

We’re completely alone now and I allow myself to really look at you. Your face is so peaceful, lacking the pain that’s twisted your handsome features for so long now. I wonder what you’re dreaming of, if you’re even dreaming at all. I reach a shaking hand out to touch you and cry out at how cold you are. I entwine my fingers through yours and squeeze hard, begging you silently to wake up and tell me how ridiculous I’m being. You always were the reasonable one, talking me down whenever I let my imagination get the better of me. However, the longer I sit there, the longer I listen to the sound of your heart monitor, the more I doubt what you said.

I feel a single tear slide down my cheek and bring our joined hands to my lips, pressing a kiss against your skin. The doctor is back now, followed by the nurses and their looks of idiotic compassion. As if they could possibly understand what is happening. He puts a hand on my shoulder and tells me it’s time. Time for what? I keep my eyes trained on your face, waiting to see those warm brown eyes of yours meet mine and sooth the pain away.

But your eyes stay shut and suddenly I hear the sound of your heart flat line. I watch as what little tension there was in your face fades into nothing. I watch the moment death lead you away from me. The nurses try to comfort me and lead me away, but I can’t leave you. I clutch your hand against my chest and feel my shoulders shake. There’s no stopping it this time. You’ve left me. You were my world, my everything and now I have nothing. The sobs wrack my entire body as I let go of the fight I had left. You told me you would always be here.

*You lied.
Syreena Phelps Jul 2014
Everyone I know is crazy,
except those in the hospitals.
The insane haven't lost their ****** minds,
they've found it.

If you can't understand this,
perhaps you're considered 'sane,'
by the 'sane,' when really,
you're blinded by society's plague.

Open your mind to insanity !
You have much to learn.
The world around us is a lie.
If you can't comprehend that,

open your  **eyes
Felicia C Jul 2014
The old man living next door to my rented shoebox

told me that the hospitals are slowly draining the humanity from the city

and that the country is just animality rationality fictionality

and that at least when there was a king, everyone had food.

now his wife can’t pick things up because her hands hurt

so she throws things

constantly

and at least in India, he knew where he stood.

"My granddaughter on the fifth of July will be coming into her ninth year of life. She wants the world, though."
July 2013
He's never there
she doesnt care.
ashamed they both are
it could leave a scar.
this made me feel so low
so i thought i should just go.
like they say in rome
there's no place like home.
i tried to off myself i felt so responsible
but sadly i just ended up in the ******* hospital.
crazy place i went where the time well spent
went home where nothing changed not even a dent.

a year later i had an anniversary
ha.. got me needing a nursery.
but here i am
not giving a ****.
but still thinking of ways
to spent most days.
and still thinking of plans
to end my demands.
by anniversary i ment a relapsation. you'd be surprised how many people get sent to a mental hospital. its not as stereo types make it seem its just like.. a baby proofed everything building with REALLY nice people and good food. c: it helps. oh and they watch u and have the days planned out for u to do activities that'll help you. no straight jackets or empty cushioned rooms. v.v
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