Waiting Downstairs
No signs of suffering could be seen Except the silence tied up with the spotless walls. The cubicle looked void of all memories, Glass doors seemed to have shut out all. The lonely medicated air was never willing To recall anything worth-remembering. He was there lying on a series of devices, Seeming to live on the edge of life, No face was enough to wake him up, No sighs to deal with his eyes. Let us wait downstairs with...
