Diagnosis


A chipped piece of nail polish falls to the floor
As she nervously bites her cuticles
The cushioned chair she sits in feels sore
The walls, painted brightly, harshly refract
The cold feeling of the building
A child in the distance, he laughs
But all she hears is jeering
A voice beckons her and she stands
Careful clutching to tables to balance
The lights are even brighter in here
More fluorescent, less forgiving
The sheet says what she already knows
Or maybe just already fears
Tears squeeze their way out
Of bloodshot hazel eyes
In which the colors seem to combine
Blurred by the salty downpour
First a light brown, then a stormy blue
To a hardened green and settle on a resigned gray
And for her the whole room is gray
No certainty, just gray
A concerned voice cuts through
Into her thoughts, but it's too late
And she could not fight it again
Her resistance had already lacked
And her world darkened, turned to black

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