Hospital Poem by Alexzia Ferdinand

open that door
dark wood, heavy handle
it will lead to a twisted path
morose, with a hovering glass moon
and simultaneously bleary sun.
open that door, eggshell
trim and painted knob, it
opens to a veritable hospital
of the mind.
where patients are anesthesized
hourly and noone is trapped or fighting,
not peaceful but still.
call numbness home
open that door
do it quietly and
slip in
find comfort in the
madstorm