Despondence, gloom, one upon the other,
Bright lights, flashes, one and altogether.
Bustling around are demons in white,
While I lie in a prison caged by my plight.
My eyes semi-open in a half-lucid state,
The seconds flutter and the nights drone by.
When shall day ever come again,
Will I see the sun and the sky?
The hands that grope are couth and gentle,
Yet upon each touch I wince and shudder.
What is it like to move my own feet,
How is it like to be able to breathe,
When shall I speak the voice in my head?