WRITTEN IN ILL HEALTH, AGAIN ; BEFORE THE 4TH OPERATION; WRITTEN ON 6TH SEPTEMBER,2013

Fear strikes me again as I lay in quiescence ;
I know  the color of my bed but I can’t speak;
For the colors seem to have the same essence .

Those masked  faces I can’t demur ,
I lay on the bed  too weak to inure;

I  see faces but their names I don’t know ;
Sympathy and care — they seem to show;
Mercurial , I try to move and rail;
I see machines, I shrink back and quail.

Machines pierce as I putrefy;
But they say the opposite  — they say they  will mollify ; 
I believe not for  my faith is lost;
My heart beats ; I live like a ghost.

They say I am alive but I don’t believe them;
My body is a mere flesh of blood  and fluids of the injection.
I fall back in slumber letting them do what they want,
As my ebullient soul finds her true place on the feet of the man with the trident. 

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