11 days, I spent in grey hospital socks
wandering halls bare, not even clocks
17 girls, all torn and broken inside
opened our wrists, drank cyanide
"behavior heath", but we knew was psych
held wandering souls, all pale and ghostlike
sat in a circle, we shared and we cried
of times we stole, drank, smoked and lied
stories of ****, abuse and pain
somehow all one and the same
different faces and different lives
but most chose to end it with knives
but failure brought us all to this place
to learn a new name, gain a new face
fed us some pills and watched how we'd do
if we'd scream and suddenly turn blue
but only a few continued to fall
and theirs are the saddest stories of all
my heart broke each night as I sat and heard
one of the girls minds became blurred
still even now, I shed a tear
for every lost soul, that we never hear

all of these issues
never started
until i turned adult

or that is just when
they became more apparent
that i can’t handle my own
        this all seems like my fault

all of these issues
never seem to disappear
not the crying
not the fight inside
not the fights outside

i don’t know if i’ll ever be ok
i just know i’m trying
and every single day
i wish i was back on the sixth floor

all of these issues
they never existed up there
they were gone
and i only had to worry about me