The walls, the curtains, the sheets-
Everything is white and blank.
My heart, my soul, my mind-
Chaotic and broken.

One blood-red flower drapes down,
Hanging across the pillow.
All I see are daggers- thorns-
Reaching for me.

My head swims from the sharp smell.
I grab a rope, it snaps.
I fall backwards to my doom,
Drowning...suffocating...dead.

A new torturer wheels me away.
And I am aware of only one thing
As the doors swing shut
I will die before that flower.

AN

I don't even know...