Autopsy (Don't read if you have a weak stomach)

by PunkyThespian - Libra

With the right amount of time,
Most everything wears off…

Daylight and depression
Were my most recent obsessions,
But like I stated earlier,
They too wore off, as did the morphine.
Yes, even morphine wears off,
And as my eyes fluttered open,
A numbing, searing pain
Entered my chest with alarming alacrity.

A loud clang, pierces the silence…

Looking down to my right
From this steely cold bed,
A tray of tools has met the floor,
Yet from whence it came,
I know not.

Cold hands,
Bitter, frozen cold hands…
As I examine them
I’m shocked at my color,
So white, so pale;
Must find blankets for warmth.

Pain again…
Numbing, searing pain
As I attempt to sit up
On this strange bed.
Surely I would never
Have purchased such discomfort!
Mother was right,
I should have bought a Sealy.

Pain!!!
Why does my chest hurt so!?
One more failed attempt,
I crash against the headboard…
White sheets,
Thrown to the floor in disgust,
Reveal more than I would ever
Want to know about
The contents of my ribcage,
Pried open and bare,
Organs pumping
With increasing desperation.

With more time now passed,
The morphinous effects
Have dissipated…
The shock,
Quickly sets in as I
Fall back against this
Steely cold bed…

My head drifting off
As I stare
Into the bright ceiling lights.
Then I fade,
Slumping down to
The left side of the floor.

The man with the white mask
Was something of a surprise,
Lying on the lime-green tiles
With an eerie peace.

Can’t help but wonder
With my second chance
For final thoughts,
Who was more shocked… ?

He at finding me
In such a dreadful state…
Or I at finding him
In my bedroom.
Birth sign: Libra
Date created: 2002-03-07 17:11:10
Last updated: 2021-03-03 14:46:01
Poem ID: 68124

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