*
charity remains
in her corner curled up tight
clutching her wee doll
*
ever she sings low
whisper croons soft lullabies
to her bisque baby
*
our nursing sisters
gentle with her simple care
share her shattered tale
*
violently soiled
sweet innocence crudely spoiled
later found with child
*
brought here by her ma
left alone to bear forth a
malformed monster thing
*
midwives rarely scream
charity's sanity left
with her one long look
*
one eyed multi-limbed
slimy rotted stinking mass
born deceased thank god
*
charity remains
twelve years old forevermore
crooning to her doll
*
YOU ARE READING
asylum: ward three
Poetryi present to you: frightened, sad, horrified, (occasionally amused) asylum inmates, possibly from the late 1800's to the early 1900's, or perhaps later, their secrets and thoughts, captured and recorded as well as i can. hearing through time to the...
