Randoms & Ramblings

5150

At the end of April I was placed under a 5150 hold. I was held for four days in a facility. It was one of the worst experiences of my life and I am still trying to move past it. The piece below has been on my mind ever since. I hope that by writing it, I will find some closure and finally be able to move forward. 

You sit me on a chair in a cold bare room

with a single light. 

How is that supposed to help?

You strip me of all my clothes

and search for cuts and scars, 

while asking me if I want to harm myself.

How is that supposed to help?

You walk me down a dark hallway

of closed doors and leave me in a

dark room, closing the door behind you.

How is that supposed to help? 

I cry myself to sleep.

In the morning you open the door

and question why I am not participating.

You mark things in your big red binder and walk away.

How is that supposed to help? 

You shout at me over the intercom 

to come take the pills in the cup, 

but not ask about them.

How is that supposed to help? 

You have me sit at a table, 

where I stare at a bin of dried up up markers

and children's coloring pages. 

How is that supposed to help?

The rest of the time you make me stay in my room, 

where you come by and

make more marks in your binder.

How is that supposed to help?

I lie on the bed staring at the blue walls

and white ceiling, thinking...

It would be so much better to be dead than here. 

So, tell me, how is that supposed to help?