The Big, “H”

The corridors are long and thin,
The bright white of the walls,
Make them seem never ending.
People in blue wherever you go,
Always rushing around,
And around,
Everything so fast,
Never slow.
There’s a beep-beep here,
And a bleep-bleep there,
Everywhere a beep, bleep.
Not a happy place,
But apparently a safe place,
The best place,
If you have a case,
Of the sicks.
For people who drink backwards,
Liquid flows out of their mouth,
The opposite to what you are meant to do.
For people who are broken,
And need some special glue.
For people who are lost upstairs,
And don’t know what to do.
For people with lazy lungs,
And need machines to get the air through.
A place for the wanderers,
The upside downers,
The drowners that need help to stay afloat,
In the magic place of potions and lotions.
They’ll fix you up a gooden,
With a one, two, three,
And so you can get on with living,
And being where you need to be!