Red Crossed Ivory Tower Poem by Sean Toland

It's a strange and bewildering place,
Crippled by its users,
Everyone is moving,
But no one is watching,

An overwhelming fear that if you see something,
You are duty bound to not ignore,
Best thing to do is keep the head down,
And get straight back out the door,

You feel isolated while in community,
Alone in a crowded room,
Not one person fills you with hope,
In their eyes you see doom and gloom,

You make fleeting friends,
Through circumstance alone,
Each person trying for attention,
And fighting for a comfort zone,
To win the battle to get a mention,
That a few consultants hear you groan


Everyone analyses eachother,
To see who is the most unwell,
Like a prisoner assessing his brethren,
To see who'll be longest in the cell,

It's a crippling way to think,
A bizarre way to feel,
But when you get to the brink,
You can't focus on what is real,

When things reach the very worst,
When your life bar is low on health,
Your sitting out of eyeline,
apparently on the highest shelf,

It's at this stage you realise you can't handle it,
You realise that you are done,
But it's a feeling that hurts you,
But it is only a fleeting one,

There is no better place to be,
But no worse place to end up,
Hoping for the cure to fix you,
Or wishing for a sip on your final cup,