Women on the ward

What is it that makes us people suffer?

The pain in the atmosphere silently floats above our heads like clouds.

You could fill an ocean with all the tears that have been dispensed here.

Like disinfecting a blocked sewer,

They hose us down with medication.

Like mothers tend to their daughters,

The soldiers patrol and protect us women on the ward.

Twenty-four hour surveillance.

Eyes always watching.

But do they hear our silent cry?

It’s a lottery on this ward,

They come and go,

But do they heal?

I do not think so!

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