Cubicle

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

Advertisements

About Katherine

I like poetry and history, literature and music.
This entry was posted in thoughts and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

What do you think?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s