Walking up the red brick road
Gated, gurney-ed, wheelchair-ed
Greeted by fluorescent sunlight
Blinded and hypnotized
Tired, blurry faces stare
Eyes glazed over from the
Sleepless night
And intoxicated
By the clean, sterile air
Bodies sore from hours
On green plastic
And starchy white clouds of fabric
Emblazoned, ironically, with my name
I wish I was that certain
Like that neon-white sheet
It knows who it is
Mockingly glaring at me
While I look at my muddled reflection
On bright, shiny linoleum
