The beds are lined up in a row,
Every patient has a blanket and a pillow.
Everyone has their story to tell.
The put the doctors through some kind of hell.
One by one down go the meds,
One by one brought in by the feds.
One girl seemed nice but her story was brutally horrible,
She wasn't able to tell if they took out her tongue, so now she can't speak.
With all the wear and tear, she was becoming weak.
She never did no wrong,
She was just messed up, she wasn't strong.
They had plans for every patient inside this place.
One by one you can see the fright upon their face.
This one girl.that could not talk,
They chained her so she could not walk.
So scared but in denial,
Each one had their own file.
The doctors checked them over and over again.
What they went through has no end.
Time will tell where they will be sent to.
So much pain through and through.
Every day some will die,
Every day some will cry.
They are numbered on their files.
Some were there since they were just a child.
With just one pill, some could be sent home.
Waiting for the day to not be alone.
Thank you my sweet tiffany for writing this poem with me.
©terrylin53
T