Wednesday, May 25, 2005

An untitled poem

I sit here in this fairytale of places where people come and people go.
I watch closely the faces. The staff and patients alike, their emotions and actions as we all try to go with the flow.

It’s funny how, with some, its easy to tell they’re patients, but some could be confused with staff.
It’s not till bedtime when all go quietly and some not so quietly to bed the outwardly “sane” are seen following the others on their own behalf.

What really separates the “mentally ill” or “insane’ from those who operate in the so called “norm”?
Is it an ability to handle the stress and behave in the correct manner or just being able to cover and hide the inner storm?

Kay L. Schlagel