Patient number one,
I saw him yesterday--
Face stretched with
Extra weight,
(New meds or newfound stress?)
A cigarette in his (too dirty) hand.
He spoke of reform,
Rehabilitation.
But he looked a different story.
He asked me how I am.
(He meant am I normal yet.)
He left, then,
Back to his (perfectly torturous) house.

Patient number two,
Walked past in silence.
(We're not to talk to each other.)
Shock on my face
Made her smile.
(With un-cracked lips.)
For months I wondered how she was,
(Is she normal yet?)
And she answered me
With a proud smile
And look of thanks.

Patient number three,
I search within
And ask how she is.
(How close to normal is she?)
Not close enough,
It taunts me.
You'll never get there.
Not with these self-bound commands.
(Mind your I's and T's she thinks.)
Not with myself in charge.