Hospital

I remember the sterile smell.
The lies they would always sell.
They asked if we were feeling well
But the answer we would never tell.

The thin beds my body would feel.
Every disgusting hospital meal.
With their eyes my skin would peel.
All this was supposed to heal?

The ambulance came to my door.
Bandages I wore.
My mind was quickly tore
with what I wanted more.

I loved my addiction.
But it caused so much friction.
I wanted to throw away this affliction.
But I was drowning in its restriction.

Pills I am fed.
They cloud my head.
I'd still rather be dead.
But "I'm fixed", I said.