PSYCH WARD

PSYCH WARD

The hollow breeze blows along the corridor
That still retains the faintest whiff of bleach
Another open door reveals an empty room
A ceiling striplight flicker offsets the gloom
Reflecting views that few had tried to teach
But now, there is nothing left here anymore

There are echoes of a past attempt at care
It’s like mental illness might no longer exist
One abandoned slipper, a mark on the wall
It just looks as if today, no-one cares at all
No plastic identity bands around the wrist
Out in the community, almost everywhere

An old hospital building in Victorian style
Extensive grounds that were all maintained
Sold off, community service at lower cost
Traditional views claim much has been lost
It’s independence, but what’s been gained
At least no bloodstain left on any white tile