Here I am, staring at a paint chipped wall
on a bed that seems fit for a motel with
an hourly rate.
The flickering fluorescent lighting acts as
if synchronized with my racing mind.
No matter what I do I cannot stop staring
at that wall.
It repulses me.
It looks as though someone had a hearty meal
of oysters and peas and couldn't keep it
down.
But how can I think of interior decorating
at a time like this?
I need to convince these Doctors that I am
sane.

~Cybil