The Sunshine Room




I sit alone
on this stiff chair
hands folded
going by the rules

I stare at the window
a small oblong gift
of dirt streaked light
beams into my lap

I hear your steps
thick rubber ones
that walk behind
a crippled cart you push

I wonder for another day
why I am here
I am not dying
I am not even sick

Yet you fill me with pills
and look at my pale wrists
hacked with rusty hidden blades
a feeble cry for help, not death

You do not understand me
you look at words on a
stranger�s chart and don�t listen
to words cried from my heart

I just need to be loved
I cry aloud with my pain
and you give me another pill
so that I sleep till love comes

I will not find love here
anymore than I found help
I must leave this dim sunshine room
and go seeking in brightness

I will leave a piece of myself
a gentle sadness and despair
that lingers in the shadows
a permanent patient

So that you never forget
that once there was a
fragile, dark haired girl
who you left alone too often
in the sunshine room.

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Copyright �2000 by Sylvia Spivey. All rights reserved.
First Place, Webstatic Poetry Contest, Second Half 2000
Sylvia�s biography page