I lie on the silky bed sheets in the hospital ward,
my head resting on the clean, fluffy pillows.
Feeling like I've been stretched out here for more than an eon.
My eyes travel with measured speed past the bright, citrine drapes,
to the picturesque scene outside the open window.
Outwardly, everything is peaceful, but inside I am in turmoil.
I struggle to listen to the soothing melodies of chirping birds,
hearing nothing but painful, cacophonous sounds in my head.
Even the softest material feels wiry beneath my fingertips.
All food tastes insipid, and I yearn for flavours,
even if they are bitterly pungent.
Though the room is clean and fresh,
it is all fusty within my nose.
I can't help but be filled with animosity,
directed towards those who brought me into this world.
I am constantly watching in envy,
as children run around outside at a breakneck pace.
Dreaming of gazing at stellar figures outdoors, deep into the night.
My wish is to frolic outside, skipping, playing with friends,
to cartwheel in gym class, to climb the highest mountain.
I'd do these things were I not born in this sickly body.
They say I'll get better, but already I feel my existence coming to an end.
I live with this loathing state of mind.
Beyond these twisted emotions however,
I know this is just the way things are, it is my fate,
and I promise to accept it all.