Fifteen beds. Fifteen charts with names,
Fifteen people without a family tree.
Fifteen bodies for whom torture is medicine and pills.
Beds over which the crimson blood of ages spills.
Fifteen bodies that want to live here.
Thirty eyes seeking quietness.
Bald heads that gape from out of the prison.
The holiness of the suffering, which is none of my business.
The loveliness of the air, which day after day
Smells of strangeness and carbolic.
The nurses that carry thermometers
Mothers who grope after a smile.
Food is such a luxury here.
A long, long night, and a brief day.
But anyway, I don't want to leave
The lighted rooms and the burning checks,
Nurses who leave behind them only a shadow
To help the little sufferers.
I'd like to stay here, a small patient,
Waiting the doctor's daily round,
Until, after a long, long time, I'd be well again.
Then I'd like to live
And go back home again.
If I was president I would use a portion of taxes to give to the homeless, 3rd world countries and struggling collage students. I would keep DACA, and make school lunches better because I'm pretty sure kids don't want food that bounces and to have their cheese to taste like plastic. I would raise the salary for teachers, social workers and whoever dresses up as santa at the mall. Kids won't have to wear uniforms only ID's and in troubled neighborhoods police officers would be almost everywhere where they are children to prevent illegal activities. More field trips in school by/ kids don't want to sit in a classroom all day even if we are playing games or have free time.
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