On the soft bed
To the regular sound of the beeps
The machines hum patiently
In a room quite and gloomy
Obscure faces look at me
Some smile, while some stare
Words fall from them
Like glass crashing somewhere beyond
A soft hand touches my neck
A cold needle enters my vein
A hurrying note of concern in the murmurs
Running feet breaks the calm
The sound of wheels rolling
Passing through doors and corridors
Into a room where the bright light hangs
One more struggle before the journey begins
I wake up
