The Mental Hospital

When people ask me about, I say that I don’t really remember.
And yes, that is partly true.
A lot of it is blurred
Because of the intensity of the trauma.
But there are some things I remember,
Things I wish I could forget.
I remember people always walking behind me,
Making sure I wouldn’t run.
I remember being forced to strip naked,
So that they could analyze every scar,
And check to see that I didn’t have anything that could give me more.
I remember everyone’s eyes.
They were all different colors and shapes
Yet somehow all looked the same.
I remember the lines,
The ladders,
Up and down everyone’s wrists
And thighs.
I remember them pushing the needle into my arm,
And how good it felt.
I remember not sleeping,
Or eating
Or breathing.
I remember the lies I told,
Because I knew what they wanted me to say.
Feeling
Anger
Terror
Sadness
Or nothing at all.
Most of all I remember not having control.
Most of all I remember how trapped I was.
I remember all of this in the form of nightmares.
I remember this in flashbacks.
I remember this with every trigger.
I remember this with every day.