Headaches are common in here
Nausea and hallucinations too
Not to mention the scent of chemicals
That makes me wanna puke
Squeaky wheelchairs scrape the floor
Worse than claws on a chalk board
And here I sit in a pew
Head in my hands, dear lord
Flatlines are the music in this place
Even headphones can't overrun
As if death was a genre
And the play button a gun
This is how hospitals appear
Behind my inflated eyes
Because in here I've seen
Too many lost lives
I've heard and seen it all
Pain and joy alike
And of course here I sit
Tears in my eyes tonight
And the reason being
You are in one of these beds
Adding to the ear splitting symphony
Of the dead
YOU ARE READING
he/him/you
Poetry[completed] some half assed thoughts i've had about unrequited love and unnecessary hope shattering revelations
