Sometimes,
When someone
Else's pain
Becomes your
Pain, you start
To once again
Lose your mind.
And like a patient
In an insane asylum,
You stare at the wall
For hours, or hum
One tune for days
On end, or try to
Tear into your own
Skin to get rid of the
Spiders. But no matter
What you do, the
Madness will not go
Away. So you draw
Circles on pieces of
Plain white paper,
And the doctors
And nurses try to
Figure out the
Meaning. With
Enough medication,
They can put you to
Sleep, but they've
Learned that instead
Of taking the drug,
You store it and save
Up to get a high. They
Don't give you medication
Anymore. You're left to
Stare, hum, and defend
Yourself.
YOU ARE READING
After Death
PoetryAfter one piece of you dies, what becomes of the rest? (Sequel to "Torched.")
