Hospital Bed


White lights have become my stars

Sheets the rolling hills

The two bedposts are strong oaks

And the whirring AC the wind

The window is there

Yet amounts to nothing

Just a view of grey rooftops

Grey, grey, grey

I've always been good at fantasy

But sometimes reality is just there

Cold, dark and ominous

Yet warm and bright as well

I must live for the days in the sun

The birds and the wind

The starry nights 

The fresh air

The good times

Some things are too good to miss.
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Death

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