Put to Sleep

A second, a minute, an hour, a day.

Must’ve been weeks that I’ve wasted away.

My hands on my shoulders, my arms across my chest.

I don’t want to go back there, so I’ll do my best.

“But my best isn’t good enough!” I scream and shout.

Not a soul goes in, not a soul goes out.

This is surely one of the worst ways to die,

For the fabric constricts me as I try to cry.

The padded white walls make me sure of my fate,

How can they lock people like me up in a crate?

The nurses come in and they hold me so tight,

Their faces are twisted with sadness and fright.

“Let me, please let me, oh, please let me go free”

The nurses ignore my strangled plea.

They put me down on a bench, but I’m still all tied up.

They look at me kindly and give me a cup.

Afraid they would take it, I drank it right down.

By now as it’s in my throat, I sputter and frown.

Minutes pass by as I begin to feel dreary,

The nurses are staring, and their faces are weary.

The younger nurse looked at me, still looking blue.

“Why are we to kill the innocent ones too?”

“The orders are yours to follow not ask,

And now, little one, we must finish our task.

This boy has passed, now we must get the rest.

If you are patient, you will not be a pest.”

“A pest? A PEST? Is that what they are considered to be?

You think that you are so much more important than he!

That poor, dear sweet, child, only slight more than a baby

Don’t they teach you to have a heart when you get a degree?”

Then the young nurse she slapped the older one smack dab in the face,

“You horrible brat! I’ll show you your place!”

The older one picked up a tube from the table,

But the little nurse was smart and now, to escape she was able.

The picked up a tray, and smashed it down on her head,

She gave me some water, untied me, and said.

“My name is Angeline, and if you care for your life, do not tarry.”

She slung my arm over her shoulders and lifted me up for her to carry.

“Lucky for you, I didn’t fill the cup full,

So now in a moment, you’ll be better in full.”

She took a set of keys from a shelf by a door,

And cradled me so I would not fall on the floor.

She put me down gently, and began working locks,

The first was an old man, working on blocks.

The second was a girl, not much younger than Angeline,

Her face was malnourished, her body was lean.

Angeline worked so quickly that I could hardly tell,

Who she had untied when she came to the last cell.

The others were as skinny and as bruised as I was,

But I was younger, and I could put up a fuss.

We heard footsteps coming from the end of the hall,

Then, Angeline’s name someone did call.

She answered in a familiar voice,

She motioned for the people to make their own choice.

I ran through the opposite end of the hall

I tripped a few times, but only once did I fall.

As I was running through the doors past the others,

I saw families in sitting rooms, fathers, mothers, sisters and brothers.

I grabbed a small blanket and held it close to my chest.

But as I was running, I knew I had done the thing that was best.

As I raced into a van, I saw faces that pained me to see.

I thought I would have needed the blanket for what would happen to me.

I looked at the family’s faces and started to whimper

They had lost their son. To me, the father had whispered.

I knew that pain, all much too well.

I pondered on whether the old nurse went to hell.

But now he was gushing with tears of joy,

Because as I opened the blanket, there was a small baby boy.

The people hugged me and kissed me for saving their hearts

From damage worse than a hurricane could part.

I had retrieved this little guy from the needle, there’s no question about it,

And now as I look back at the sign, and as best as I can, that was it.

No need for an award, I felt the best I had ever felt,

Because it was at he baptism of the baby boy that I knelt,

Thanking god that I had been sent to my death,

So I would not have-at least on that day-heard his last breath.

I remember reading the words ‘Put to Sleep.’

They were written on a clipboard, and those words I will keep.

As a reminder of good and not bad,

A reminder of Angeline, the boy, his mom, his sister and his dad.