Halls

I went to the hospital for my mental health. I was there 7 days. This is my reflection.

If these halls had hills they would be high too,

I’ve been climbing, trying to find You.

This place is carved out for me,

Full of faces, full of all I see.

I see faces that used to smile,

That made life worthwhile.

Now, I see torn and bruised.

Bruised like bad fruit. Used to

Be sweet but not so much anymore.

I see myself fading into the hall,

Pacing after all,

Hungry for change but thirsty for

Water.

After all, this has to do with my father.

I see him in a wheelchair,

Shouting smoke break is now

And making sounds like a cow

And telling me to look down when nothing

Is around. I see the jokes flying but very little

On the smiling,

I see the halls and they feel like hills

Because we lost our right to have the

Thrills.

This is now and this is my life.

Pass the meds and things will be alright.

Can I go down and dig a little deeper? The lows are low

And the highs are high and why do I find myself closer to the

Floor, asking for more, on my knees crying out for saving!

Everything is a hallway and I see the doors

Which way is enter and which way to exit

When do I leave this place and when do I exit

From grace. The answer may be never but I go

Anyway in stormy weather. This is me. This is my life.

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