They wouldn’t help me at all they just told me

To sit with all this agonizing pain bottled up in me.

They told me not to smile and not to frown for my elongated

Body was going to be put down

Then hung up on a

Wall.

They laid me down on a blood-ridden bed

With purple sheets on top.

They covered me with dirty white blankets

Though that didn’t help because blood was draining

From my frail fluidless body,

I was

Naked.

All I could feel was pain and pain and strain

And all the blood-ridden stains,

And what I felt most was the artist

painting me

and my

Shame.