Ward 3A

Ward 3A

Take a deep breath.

Close your eyes.

We’re going to take a trip, you and I.

Put away your busy life for a moment.

It’s not going to take long. It’s just a trip

To a place most people don’t care to visit.

They shove it aside, sweep reminders of it under a carpet.

But really, some things in life shouldn’t be forgotten.

I’m just reminding you of them, in the kindest way

I can. Now

Breathe.

The sharp, sickly-sweet sting of alcohol invades your nose

And your shoes screech against the spotless floor with every step.

It's an annoying sound, one that grates against your nerves.

The same way their teeth grates

When they watch their various fluids

Pooling into a limp plastic bag.

Look on closely.

As you pass each room, observe what goes on behind every glass door

Be reminded

Of the many different ways you can die on this earth.

This one looks on in horror while the angels of death

Swoop down and jam a sharp, shiny needle into his skin.

It quickly fills with a plum coloured paint and

Leaves behind trailing roses of the same colour

On his pale canvas.

That one seems to be sleeping.

Seems to be. She shakes, shivering lightly

As her face twists in pain every few seconds.

She doesn't need nightmares. She is in one.

There are at least twenty tubes leading out of her body

Into a cold machine.

There is another who doesn't seem to feel anything at all.

His skin and eyes are like paper.

White. Empty. Blank. It makes you wonder

Where do their spirits go with their bodies still living?

Are they trapped in the cracks of their own mind?

Or are they buried deep in a garden somewhere in heaven?

Questions only they can answer. And they never will.

Now, open your eyes. Breathe.

I told you it wouldn’t take long.

This is the world that we ignore

In our sunshine and laughter.

This is the one that is forced

To stay in the shadows of our world.

Remember it.

Go back to your life. Keep moving.

Keep breathing.

Even with your eyes open

It’s still going to be there.

End.