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Psych Ward
March 8, 2016
I’m trapped between these four morbid walls
with only a bed,
a scarred desk
and a window
covered with bars.
No one's ever told me why I’m in here.
I’m not crazy.
I don’t know what I did wrong.
Ladies force chalky pills down my throat
and don’t leave until I have taken all of them.
Men in white coats come and see me.
They say they are here to help.
Then why
am I
still in here.
© Kriztille J., Briarwood, NY
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