Driftwood

Whitewashed walls,
White tiled halls,
Floating weightless,
Floating shapeless,
I find myself asleep,
In a slumber so deep,
I lay still,
against my will,
Like driftwood,
I’d swim if I could,
But instead I follow the tide,
While I scream inside,
None can hear,
But all can see,
My body begins to disappear,
Driftwood in the sea,
Floats upon the shore,
On the second floor,
Through the twin doors,
Into my final resting place,
An blank face,
A blank slate,
My final fate,
I lay on the sand,
Not quite what I planned,
The foam laps at my ankles,
Wrists scrape on shackles,
tied to my bed,
trapped in my head,
but never dead,
I hear a voice,
I drift no more,
And I rejoice,
I see the door.