I stepped in to the infirmary.
Stared at the ceiling in front of me.
I saw those bodies on the bed.
I saw those tubes inside your head.
White walls made me feel betrayed.
White walls betrayed the color grey.
I've never gotten an answer
from a well-dressed man
Was never given the cure;
never told the plan.
The ego never wants to stop.
The ego denies it will rot.
I saw my body on the floor.
I wasn't moving anymore.
The fear was seeping out my pores.
This is a place I know too well;
this is a place where fear does dwell.
Among the birds and the plastic trees,
it's waiting to bring you to your knees (and it does).
You can sell yourself a story,
or you can write yourself a book,
but the fear will always linger:
Digging into your back, ripping at your skin,
clawed in like a million hooks.
If there is a better way,
we could find a way,
we could sus it out.
If there is another way,
then we'll find a way,
we will work it out.
I've never met an honest
man in a suit.
I never bit the bullet.
I never told you to shoot.