Once I had a dream, I awoke in a
Hospital bed with my family and friends all around me.
My wrists were bound in bandages
And they all wept
“Why? Why would he do it?”
“But I did not.” He ripped off the bandages to reveal bare wrists.
“See, I did not do it.”
But they continued to weep.
“Look, I have no scars, it was not me.”
“He had been beautiful, why could he not see?”
But I could not see the scars
For they were in me.
Back to Poetry Gallery
Mad in America hosts blogs by a diverse group of writers. These posts are designed to serve as a public forum for a discussion—broadly speaking—of psychiatry and its treatments. The opinions expressed are the writers’ own.
Mad in America has made some changes to the commenting process. You no longer need to login or create an account on our site to comment. The only information needed is your name, email and comment text. Comments made with an account prior to this change will remain visible on the site.