Content Warning : Do you want to continue?
This poem contains content which some readers may find disturbing.
It is unsuitable for children or anyone who is easily offended.

YES
I am over 18 years old, I have been warned and I still want to read this poem.
NO
I don't want to read this type of content, take me back to the previous page.


deepundergroundpoetry.com

No Wonder I'm A Sick Fuck

Hope this doesn't offend anyone, just have to get it off my chest.

I’ve smelled burned flesh, blood, shit, piss, puke, bacterial infections, and toxic chemicals.

I’ve sorted body parts after a terrorist bombing knowing that one of the bodies could be my father.

I’ve remained professional and nonjudgmental while working with a man who sodomized his six-month old daughter.

I’ve sat with a woman and convinced her that the unrecognizable person in the burn unit is her 18-year-old son, who will not survive.

I’ve watched a man have a stroke because of the medication I gave him to dissolve the blood clot in his coronary artery.

I’ve administered 360 joules of electrical energy to a woman’s chest, over and over again, knowing there is no chance for survival.

I’ve stayed with a patient until he died after we stopped the ventilator, then cried with the family and prepared the body for the morgue.

I’ve heard the cries of a 20-year-old girl who miscarried in the seventh month.

I’ve started an IV on a convicted murderer.

I’ve stood watch in the trauma center when the president was in town, hoping some wacko wouldn’t choose tonight to assassinate.

I’ve felt ribs break while doing CPR.

I’ve done mouth to mouth on a man in cardiac arrest whose arm was amputated at the shoulder from an motor vehicle collision.

I’ve felt skin come off the wrist of the body I was removing from a house fire.

I’ve cracked jokes while removing the tattoo of a swastika from a white supremacist’s burned shoulder.

I’ve started an IV in a drug addict’s penis because it was the only vein he hadn’t used.

I’ve had a patient’t finger come off in my hand during a burn dressing.

I’ve taken care of a mob style shooting victim before PD arrived, knowing that the shooter could still be out there and I might have a target on my back.

I’ve laughed, joked, shouted and cried while listening to the equally horrific stories of firemen, policemen, nurses, doctors and soldiers over pizza and beer.

No wonder I'm a sick fuck.
Written by Kinkpoet
Published
Author's Note
One of my earliest poems. I began writing poetry as a way to cope with job related stress and PTSD.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 2 reading list entries 1
comments 5 reads 666
Commenting Preference: 
The author is looking for friendly feedback.

Latest Forum Discussions
COMPETITIONS
Today 3:58am by SatInUGal
COMPETITIONS
Today 3:19am by wallyroo92
SPEAKEASY
Today 3:00am by Gahddess_Worship
SPEAKEASY
Today 2:33am by SweetKittyCat5
SPEAKEASY
Today 1:54am by Mstrmnd1923
SPEAKEASY
Today 1:16am by mysteriouslady