The North Wing
She sat, unmoving, in the common room, A blank stare on her face; whether in stupor From the meds, or in contemplation, lost In thought, it was hard to tell, even to her. She didn't like the place. And neither did She like being confined within its walls. There was little to do, at least in terms Of things she was accustomed to. They'd told Her that the lack thereof, was for her own good, That it was best for her to focus on Recovery, with minimal distractions. To her, it meant sitting in silence with Her knees tucked to her chest, trying to ignore The fact that she was being held against Her will, little less than a criminal. Earlier in the week she'd been brought in, Or dragged in, more like it, kicking and screaming, At the request of her family and friends, And was admitted into the psych ward For observation. She was mad at them At first, for turning on her, but those thoughts Were now replaced by her contempt for the system That kept her there; the doctors, and the staff, Even the law, and all the stupid hoops She had to jump through just to get out of there. She may have been uncomfortable, and A bit angry, but, and she swore, once she Got out, she was going to make a change, And never end up in that place again. And this was a jump-start in cleaning up.
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Spurs
Our current perspective, in this very moment, is altered by everything we've ever experienced up til now, what happened years ago and what happened moments ago, and the accompanying thoughts. We are forever changing.
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