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
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
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.