#6

The Last Laugh

About to ‘Come Out’ and commit to my love

I got committed under Section 26 instead;

And in my third year of enforced captivity

I awoke on a life-support bed.

 

Guts like Jack the Ripper had filleted me like a kipper

And oxygen-supply constantly tested

I was a miscreant classic with a brain-box left brassic

Whose heart had got twice arrested.

 

With tubes up my nose and down my throat

And needles and wires in each arm

When I turned (with difficulty) to see the Priest by my side

He looked at me with alarm.

 

For the irony had struck me amid life’s dross

That morphed me into Frankenfurter’s daughter

Shut away behind a handle-less door, with a mattress on the floor

Before my life had even reached its first quarter;

Brain-cells fried out and no Human Rights to shout

And my future gone to the slaughter..

 

That God was by my side through the nights my friends died

And through my own gross-misdiagnosis gaffing;

And starting to shake, whilst trolleys shrieked to a break

I almost killed myself again, just laughing.

 

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