How like a prison is my cublicle
Where I await the medic on his rounds
I bite my nails and chew their cuticles
But take care not to make a single sound
Were I to don this backless gown supplied
And lie uncovered on this small hard bed.
I feel as if someone will think I’ve died.
And like a book I will remain unread.
Alone and naked like a new born child
Or like a suspect in some secret jail.
I must keep hold of thought and temper wild…
No cries,no screams,no not a single wail..
How easily we ‘re plucked from normal rounds
And hurled into a maelstrom with no bounds