by Harshic Grablic

Nothing eased there pain and suffering; no medicine fixed their anger or confusion. They were alone without a soul who cared about their life or illness. They sat each day starring at walls, lingering in their own filth as they waiting to die. Their ears were filled with screams and their nights crowded by nightmares. The public was kept from them, kept from helping them by the lies that local and national governments feed to the media. Hope was lost and vacant in all their eyes. Love had left their hearts the day they were forced to live behind these stone walls. The attendants didnt show pity or show any remorse for the treatment then brought upon these people, these human beings. Walking through the halls you would only feel the sorrow that fills even the tiniest of cracks. Your eyes would water and shut when the stick that so many lived in hit your nose. It was a poor sight to behold. It was sad and would tear a heart apart with just a glimpse. Though through this troubled and broken scene, a girl stat, sane among the insane. This girl had clenched onto hope and filled her heart with the love she found in books. Nurses would take and hide her beloved books, but in response she would tear out her cherished parts and hide them away in her gown or pillow so that when all hope seemed lost, and love seemed out of reach she could travel to just a small part of the worlds she had seen though her mind. She had no family, or anyone that cared, except the pages that comforted her.

She had lived a simple life, simple but tortured. He will could only last for so long though. She was torn down and slowly broke under the pressure of the world and it came toppling onto her as she slept. She went peacefully, though she didnt go without leaving an impact. That day the stench of the sorrow left the halls and silence filled the air instead. The screaming and rattling bed posts from patients shaking stopped. It was peaceful and even the nurses but down there magazines and cigarettes and paid attention to the many people living within the brick walls. Her death would be forgotten by many and remembered by few, but what would be marked would be the turning point, that one date that things looked up and hope was brought back to the insane. Love would now flourish in the hearts of the many instead of the few.

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