Hospital Bed

Felicityjones

I remember being 15 years old,
laying in a hospital bed.
I had a broken heart and a suicidal head.
In and out of treatments,
they became my second home.
Taking tests that show me all my syndromes.
It wasn't living,
putting my life on the line.
A few different times I almost flatlined.
Watching my family cry because what I have done.
That never stopped me,
I kept kissing the gun.
Doctors told me I am depressed as I lay there overdosed with leads on my chest.
Every year I made a trip back.
I was not right,
some say I was whack.
I couldn't help it,
I wanted to die.
Nobody understood all my reasons why.
Self destruction and the drugs I took,
you could see I needed help with just one look.
My judgment was clouded and my emotions a storm.
It took me a long time for things to start to form.
Now I am here to tell my story,
a story that starts out sad and ends with glory.
I wasn't the only one and neither are you,
it is possible to make it through.

  • Author: Felicity Jones (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: May 6th, 2018 23:16
  • Category: Reflection
  • Views: 11
  • Users favorite of this poem: Syd
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Comments +

Comments1

  • Syd

    Hi there Amber. Great poem, I'm glad you made it through.

    Take care - Syd



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