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.