A Cruel Thing
A slow beep reminds her that her heart is still beating.
Every inch of her body is embedded in the mattress below.
Violently carried away on a river of agony,
The potassium IV burns her veins pumping her body with ice shrapnel.
Squirming desperately in an attempt to untangle herself,
Her tormented eyes flash open as if possessed,
Blood pulses through her forehead and fear enters her mouth.
The simpering sweetness of thick Jevity tube feed is first to come
Yet the tube abrades the papery skin of her throat
The acid and wounds join together in a fierce dance
That enable bile and blood to follow and fill her basin.
It's in her hair, on her face, her hands, her eyes.
The odor never quite abandoning her.
She's alone in her room and no one comes.
It is dark outside
But the sterile surroundings and harsh lights
Constantly remind her of her circumstances.
She longs for home - but she cannot go,
She is not yet ready.
Setting the basin in its rightful place beside her,
A comfort, reliable and safe
Her eyes shut once again,
The slow beep bids farewell,
And she resigns herself to the future.
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