Poems for Lovers and Sinners 
  Oliver Plaice

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 The Hospital

  The smell of disinfectant drifts freely

  Along the corridors of this giant germ place

  While statuette figures walk tall in white coats

  With stethoscopes around their necks

  Like pet snakes clinging on for life!

  Walking from bed to bed discussing your prospects

  With their minions, who surround them like some God

  If you're lucky this almighty being will speak several words

  Or...he may just pass you by like you're non-existent

  The hours tick by so slowly among this disinfectant odour

  They feed us three meals a day like cattle, not thinking...

  If the food or fodder is to our liking!

  We either endure with embarrassment and eat their culinary skills

  Or never leave this bed infested place!


Written By B.R.Walker
3rd July 2008
Copywriter UK  

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