Room 509


There's an orchid in my window pane,
and a daisy in my hair
She asked where I was going,
but I go no where

I carry quarters in my pockets
but not for ice cream
They herd us into the dining room
The new ones start to scream

They send us out, one by one,
skeletons, but fatter
They know that we'll be back for more,
and soon, for that matter

I peel the garbage off my skin,
like wallpaper, cracked and faded
But alas, I am always shipped back
They must keep me sedated.

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