Operate on the patient.
It seems she’s lost her patience.
The machine’s beeping is slowing down.
There is no heart. She seems to need a replacement.
An ice sickle lodged in her chest.
No wonder she is so still..
Remaining non-responsive..
She’ll be sent to rehab, she cant recall the feeling.
Numb from all previous emotional beatings.
She is weary from the world’s revolving, she grabbed the revolver, and turned her back on the world.
The Doctors go in for surgery, as she lies unconscious asking God,
“Who murdered me?”
“They told me emotions were a bitch, but I didn’t think she ever heard of me!”
She’s angry.
The nurses forgot to stick her with the IV.
Now pain is the only joy she seeks.
Four doctors all inside her, trying relocate her heart, but they’re only blind, to what they don’t want to see.
Her heart is there; instead look what its grown to be.
Embodying an igloo — a shelter for the feelings she never learned to release.
She never felt capable.
Staring down at the table, screaming at the doctors
“Someone Help Me!”.…..”Please!”
Her feelings are confusing because ironically agony brings her relief.
The world is in the waiting room anticipating her release, with a knife in the back pocket. Aimed at her back, for the next time she attempts to flee.
Unfortunately we don’t know which paralyzed her, the world or the doctors operating.
However now she is alive and conscience…except without much strength to feel
Currently she sits alone rehabilitating her trust.
Is insurance overrated?
–Leighrick
PROCLAMATION TRANSFORMATION 