HOSPITAL ROOM

            I can see the sunrise with my eyes.

           I can see the sun.

           It is not any fun.

      Breakfast comes around.

   Another day here, I will be found.

               Another day goes by.

              Another tear falls from

                      my eye.

              I am here because doctors need to operate.

  No, that is not great.

  Yes, that I hate.

                 I stand at the window.

               My hand on the glass.

            So slow, time does pass. 

       Can I leave here?  No.  

          When I walk, whereever I go

     I am connected to all these wires

       I am of this, do tire.

     The main wire is called an IV.

             There is no view.

            There is nothing I can do.

   There are no toys.  There is not joy.

  I can play games. 

Every  day seems the same.

  Try not to go insane.

  I can look at a book.  

     There is TV, sure.

         How much of this must I endure

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