Carved markings
On his wrist
Made with a knife
Still dropping on the floor
Sorry is all he is saying
Handing me his ID
And
His medicines
Starting to harm himself
Even more
Sedating him was hard to do
7.weeks in
And
This is what he said today
4 walls
I can't touch
Floor
I don't even know if you're there
Hey cell
Can you fall on me
I'm so tired
I'm so ready to go
-
Author:
Hanible (
Offline) - Published: January 1st, 2025 11:46
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 23
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.