Notes About The Poem
Some people exist in a vegetative state. This poem hopes to relate that.
A Vegetative State of Mind
My mouth’s in a cage, locked up and alone,
Sewn shut with no one to speak to.
My eyes have seen pain of mental torment,
A broken mirror that sees straight through you.
My ears are blocked to the screams and the cries,
A sand grain alone on the beach.
My skin’s now contorted to a dead cold bronze nothing,
Not tanned in a figure of speech.
My nose has been shattered to smells of a rose,
To the smells of happy and free.
My bones have been snapped, two pencils from one,
My body is now wasting debris.
My “me” has been broken, discarded and burnt,
Once strong, now brittle and frail.
My life is now cursed in this vegetative state,
On a bed my mind’s locked in a jail.
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