Home - A poem by me

As the van drove around the bend,
the tall bushy trees parted,
and an old run down building came into view.

It's walls are stained,
with a pale yellow,
acid rain had
corroded the sides.
Wheelchairs lined the corridors.

Doors to the many rooms were left,
wide open,
to allow air to circulate
within.
I managed to catch a glimpse
of a bed or two.
Were the beds empty?
Where were the people?

The van slowed to a stop
at the parking lot,
and the 8 of us hopped out.
A short briefing,
and the supervisor came
out to speak.

A tour was given.
As we passed through
the many rooms,
the sight nearly started to water
my eyes.

People with twisted bones,
twisted faces.
People with crooked spines,
crooked grins.

What had the world done to humans?

A woman,
in a wheelchair,
grinning.

How was she happy like this?

Her laughter,
slightly chocking on her throat.
Her mouth,
opened wide,
gaping like a fish.
Her head,
thrown back,
and stayed that way.
We would see the back of
her throat.

We met more of them.
And we shall meet more
next week.