not her

Ugly blue plastic band.

“Intermountain healthcare” it says.

A picture of a girl.

Sad and angry girl.

She’s on a hospital bed,

With a loud machine hooked on to her,

She cries silently for hours,

Her family doesn't even want to be here.

she’s an inconvenience.

She can’t move,

She can’t drink,

She can’t sleep.

She tells the same story over and over to strangers in gown.

They write notes,

They whisper and make phone calls.

Suddenly she’s in the ambulance.

She laughs out loud as tears roll down her cheek.

They take pictures of her.

Every little detail.

Every inch of her body.

They ask questions.

She smiles the pain away

For three days.

I wipe the tear that rolls down my cheek.

Knowing that it’s going to be okay.

She is me,

But I am not her.