Troy Gordon writes poems about the voices in his head.
This poem by Troy will be pubished in a book.
The hospital 1
I’m in the high risk area still
and I’m screaming
“JUST GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!
GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!!!”
They sent me to the rubber room because of it.
No straight jacket for me though, just some nurse scrubs.
I had no hope in sight.
The nurses rushed in after a minute or two
to shoot chemicals into my ass through a syringe.
I kept screaming hoping for the best to come from all this fighting.
The chemicals soon took hold and I started to relax.
I want to cry so badly in that yellow padded room,
but I can’t
I found my rush to be too supreme to let that happen.
I passed the time by
by slowly and regularly tapping and scratching my fingers all over my scalp
while ducked over, hunched, trying to keep it together.
The voices just wouldn’t stop.
They went on and on as they even do now, pushing me to my limits,
to set me free
After I had calmed down the nurses came in.
There wasn’t a look of worry on any of their faces.
I could tell through their happy little iris’ that they had been through this before
and that it would get better for me.
It really has…
thank god, its quieter now
i feel as if I’ve been put to rest in a way.
I was so scared in there.
I knew that I would be the guy who was in the rubber room for the rest of my life.
Honestly, to be completely clear,
I’m proud of my self now.
I’ve come so far from that disturbing place and i will go so so so so so so much further.
I think thats nice.