The Mental Hospital Poem by Megan Schreiber

The words mental hospital
So harsh on the tongue
Bringing negative thoughts of the people there
Most the people there were not mentally insane
Just depressed and suicidal
But they are some of the greatest people you will never meet.

The first thing you notice is the smell
The harsh smell of lemon scented cleaning product
The dry white melancholy walls
The whole hospital is escape and suicide proof
Rounded edges
Hard plastic couches
Locked cabinets
Sealed doors
Barred windows
A prison locking us in for our own protection
And for good reason
The long straight hallway
Doors to our rooms lining the hall
The empty rooms
Faded dirty white walls
And a lonely bed in the middle of the room
The windows tease us
We can look to the outside world
Trying to see past the Bars covering the windows
Yet, we were never alone
Flashing lights in on us
through the small window on the door
Just checking to make sure we are still alive
In the hall were the couches and tables
Trying hard to resemble a family living room
Here all of the teenagers gathered together for therapy

We all must have looked pretty odd
Wearing our pajamas and shoes without the strings
Hair messy and girls with naked faces
We all became a family
For some, the closest thing to a family
We all shared the common feelings of depression and suicide
We bonded over scar stories and why we were there
Joking about being in a mental hospital
Making friends that truly understood your struggle
And encouraging each other to stay alive
Learning, crying, sharing all together
We grew to be a family
Strangers spilling their guts out in front of you fearlessly
Knowing that judgement is absent here
Because we all have our stories of how we ended up here.

Most of us couldn’t wait to leave and go home
even though that meant leaving our new family
But we would be joyful for them
Because they chose to stay alive
But some of us didn’t want to go home
Because home is empty and lonely
Home is what brought most of us here.

When people think of a mental hospital
They think of insane people in straight jackets
Rocking back and forth, talking to themselves
When I think of a mental hospital
I think of my family that I’ll never see again
Just memories of the people who help me through recovery.