The Box: Lessons from the Bedside

Nineteen years old but all grown up, he asks himself if he will ever leave this tiny room. Each moment, he wonders if he does leave what he will do and what it will mean. He ponders all of the tough questions and attempts to integrate his experience into his solutions. He looks to himself for the inspiration to go on.

The live reading of the poem on Facebook by the author.

This poem appears in the book Lessons from the Bedside.

THE BOX

The cuts in my throat throb,
My hands blistered and blood-stained,
Mucous coats my entire body,
Chemicals flow through my veins.

I must be alone,
My voice echoes with disdain,
One more day has passed,
I wonder if I am insane.

Two weeks until nineteen,
Sweat pours from my brow,
I cannot stop shaking,
I ask myself how.

I have no more blasts,
I have no cells at all,
I wait for forgiveness,
I stare at the barren walls.

This room I cannot leave,
Peace I cannot find,
My body cannot keep up,
As I fight for piece of mind.

My eyes are leaking,
My skin is shedding,
My heart is begging,
Where am I heading?

This poem appears in the book Lessons from the Bedside.