Stop Pretending

HOSPITALIZED

Sister’s in the psycho ward
and when I visit, I glance toward
the other patients’ twisted faces,
quaking fingers,
frightened eyes,
wishing I could somehow break her out of here . . .
Then Sister starts to scream at Mother,
telling her how much she hates her,
begging her to stop the voices
chattering inside her skull.
I’m feeling sick,
the air’s too thick . . .
Suddenly I’m running, stumbling,
Sister’s demons chasing after,
leering, laughing,
right behind me
lurching at my heels
remind me:
I could have been the one.
Run, Sister, run!