Smells Like Syringes Poem by Dakota Ellerton

Bed of illusions
the stench of death on the curtains
sunlight peeks through my window
a rythmic beep
echoes from down the hall
the bed next to mine is empty
did someone die in this room?
have I died?
where am I?
why do I remain lost here?
the nurse comes
I feel a slight sting
blood, my blood
what are you doing with it?
I can't move my body
[or maybe I don't want to]
I can't feel, I can't see
my senses numbed
this is the real world
I am real