The Clinical Trials
and the memories that still haunt me.
The smell of urine dances in the air,
my six-year-old mind pleads to be taken
away from here.
Instead.
I wade across a sea
of white and gray tiles.
Shiny trees with fluid
dripping from their limbs.
Clear drops of liquid
flowing into their veins,
like everlasting water,
that will not make them last.
I find refuge on a small island,
my legs dangle
over the edge,
the sea of white and gray,
moves motionlessly
below my tiny feet.
Mini replicas of his hands trace the
edges
of the island,
it feels like a playground,
without the play,
they will all be in the ground.
I stare into the stale, blank
space. It stares back at me.
I sway on my island, until
I see his face swimming towards me.
I slip off my island, r e a c h i n g out
my replica to fit inside his original.
I don’t belong here
and neither should he.
Let's float away,
inside my world
of make believe.
About the Creator
catchafrisbie
I want to leave kindness in my footsteps and tiny seeds of hope in your brain.
Write your own story here.
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