We are already dead.
Not marching, but stumbling...
shuffling...
staggering down the bright
fluorescent hallways lined with
one way glass and mirrors.

Invisible from the outside,
but naked on the inside.

Human bodies with
broken minds.
We stand apart from one another,
spaces between us.
Standing catatonic,
like a forest of dead trees.
Silent.

The only sound comes from
behind inches of plastic,
the nurses at their stations.
The screaming
from the rooms without windows,
save the one
in the door.

The smell of madness is
all around. Everywhere.
There is no hope here.
No one laughs
and misery hangs in
the air.
A muffled sob.

The illusion of calm
and order is essential.
Everything moves
in slow
motion.
Stagnant.

The medication makes its rounds,
following the sun
in the sky.
The misery comes
and goes
in waves.

But it always returns.
...Will I ever get well?

By: Caitlin Janes