This poem tells of the desperation one has while they are committed to a mental health facility. It is devastating. A glimpse of what a person with a brain disease deals with.
My First Night In The Nuthouse
Bloodcurdling screams of extreme pain and horror generated the thick hospital air. The ward was teaming with the frustrations and anxieties of many people in mental agony calling out into the night for help.
“I want to go home.” cried a shrill voice
People in dirty pajamas and slippers shuffled up and down the halls trying to make sense of what was happening to them.
“I want to go home!” screamed a shrill and ear piercing voice that trailed off into the night
Small and uncomfortable beds in cramped and cold rooms made for an impossible situation in which to sleep
“GOD, PLEASE LET ME GO HOME!!!’
Bloodshot eyes and slurred speech, certain evidence of troubled souls
It was nearly midnight and the nuthouse was as active as Vegas at noon
Nervous and upset people searching each other’s souls for answers that don’t exist anywhere
A hopeless prison term to be served by one and all whether in or out of the ward. Prisoners to sick minds troubled and poisoned, confused and misguided, tired and angry
“We all want to go home”
Looking through the thick shatterproof windows, we could see the activities of the world outside
What a thin line that divides those on the outside from the inside
Helpless and frightened people with nowhere to turn. No place to hide from the ever present insanity
Even the medication cannot help us now
We are spending the first of many nights in the nuthouse
I still cry when I read it!