Wide eyes look out,
Stagnant since twelve.
Entombed within
A sick skin case.

Cold bars holster my legs
In a uniform room.
They light my solitude.
Their blood stains the ceiling.

Sedated hands harrow my arms;
Spikes of terror pierce and prickle.
I am not certain they are real.
Their blood runs down the walls like bleach.

Synthetic bells flood sound
Through my shivering lungs.
My heart will surely burst.
Their blood drips down my throat.

My head swings through
White corridors.
I cannot breathe.
Their blood lives on.

The floor sings to me
Between spiral stairs.
The pull is so great.
My blood spreads like fire.

The pain has never left.