‘There’s a smell of urine and chocolate in ward 42,
behind bars for the next week or two.
The worst of them all are in this place,
night and day, whatever the case.
They are not allowed to wear clothes of their own,
They are dirty, smelly, a number not be known.
Freedom to them are a dream in their minds,
Forever weighed by their emotions they can never unwind.
They scream and they shout,
are guilty of rape and assault.
They swear and they steal,
they can kill and they deal,
O’ God, what a terrible pain for these people I feel.
One woman sit alone in a corner, she’s laughing,
another is shouting, looking for a fight,
Their eyes are piercing into my soul,
Lucky, they can’t find anything within me that’s whole.
I also carry scars of the past and a life.
What makes me different from them?
Maybe, something between the psyche and the brainstem?
I stood in the door looking for a way to settle the score,
they are in this hell hole of a place.
I can just walk out leaving them inside, to join the never ending race,
but somehow I look around and decided to stay.
There is something strange about this institution,
that keep you there and make you understand that nothing is an absolution.
They are paralysed by the medication they’re fed,
it’s supposed to keep them happy so the disease won’t spread,
To ensure that reality don’t step in at any time,
they are kept in an euphoria and are forced to mime.
What is normal in a prison like this,
if the conditions they live in are prolonging their pain.
They all wanted to be miraculously healed,
where there is chocolate and their safety outside sealed.
I smell urine and chocolate in ward 42.
What am I suppose to do?
Their fate and future is not in my hand.
Their destiny and sanity is like chocolate on a candy stand.
Today you can buy and eat it before it melts in your hand,
tomorrow you can see the consequence written in drift sand.
I feel a tremendous loneliness for those in ward 42,
‘cause at the end of the day there is nothing you can do.
Somehow they in flicked it onto themselves.
All cut up in halves like apricots waiting to be shelved.
But who will dare to say they have to stay this way,
if all they ever wanted were the warm sun of a bright new day.
(438 Words)
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