#psychiatrjc
He tried to hang himself
in the toilets
on the locked ward.
She heard and saw
the nurses rushing to a fro
like headless chickens.
She sat on the sofa
smoking.
She'd spoken to him
that morning
before breakfast.
They had watched
the snow falling.
The quacks
won't be pleased.
He'll be watched
more carefully
after that.
She'd not tried that:
hanging wasn't her thing.
Slit wrists or overdose
was more in her line.
The Indian woman
sat over the way
rocking back and forth.
All sorts.
Nurses passed by;
the plump nurse
like a young hippo
rushed past.
She'd talk to him
once he was about again.
The snow had stopped.
Now she supposed
would come the rain.
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 4:47 PM UTC