Photo by Marcelo Leal on Unsplash
My life
Like a hospital bed
Retracting back and forth
White walls
Narrow halls
That smell sterile
But covered in decay
I lay docile
Uneasy at the agitated
Flinch in my body
That wants to move
But the IV inside me
Won’t let me wander.
Watched when I pee
I’m guarded
And regarded
As someone who’s
A risk.
I flail
As the tv stays
Stagnant
The world rotates
Around me
But I’m not
Nearly the
Center of attention
I want to be
About the Creator
Veronica
I am the moss silken on watered stones, rooted deep in rich soil. Earthen creature, I am the night sky -starry and strayed from the forgotten path of poets - I am, the chatter from the iron rails rattling as the train carries itself home.
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