On the mental ward,
there is no "Lord,"
no "Savior."
Only society's leftovers,
shuffled to and fro and
around and around we go.

Where does worth come from?

I've been told my aura is Lavender,
By a man trying to flee
light blue paper scrubs

and milk dripping down them.

He says I'm not suicidal,
Lavender never is.