A Hospitalisation Not Under The Sun

These children, 16 or younger, were flying

Down the stream of the hallway

On their backs.

An interesting first impression.

They were definitely crazy, but

I was too.

They brought me to the deserted place

Where I would sleep under deserted cloth, Of which I made each day,

Next to a deserted desk

With no drawers and no chair.

Just a blank off-white room

Later darkened

By the sheet over my

Head.

I know He's the Sun.

Always there,

Even when we cannot see Him.

He lives in my dad.

He speaks through my mom.

When I sat in the room so still,

I began to morph.

I became a waterfall

blocked by a concealed cave.

My head slipping,

Slipping away from me as I continue to stay.

I do show myself

To my new found friends, but my willingness to survive

starts to escape.

He kept me going.

I started to see through the black veil.

I noticed

I had to deal with

This.

My stupid, broken, butchered,

Yet faithful

Head.