Waiting Room Poem by Danielle Neesha

Every crack in every tile
Burns like a laser
Imprinting dirty marks
On the circles in her eyes.

The stench of green plastic chairs and stale drugs
Hang thickly in the air
And lingering and creeping up her nostrils
Provoking coughing and wheezing.

Perched on the edge
With the razorblade between two fingers
Slicing smoothly through her wrists
While she waits to see the doctor.

Some scavengers rumble by carelessly
With their piercing stares
Smashing into her face
But she doesn’t care
She does the deed
Nevertheless