The Diseased Ones

they spin like dizzy children on a school day
but without the reassuring chime
that ushers them into four solid, safe walls.
instead, tired, little things,
keep spinning
         spinning
              spinning...

until they wake up out of bounds, beyond
the Gate and behind the waist high
brick planters filled with the colors
of a burnt-brown rainbow.

I am there too.

reaching for their sweaty hands and
picking at their pockets for the chalky
white tablets that help to medicate our
              flow of Time.

© Audrey Rosengreen, 2018

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