They take me to a room, and tell me to
Lie down on my stomach
“You have MRSA, a powerful superbug,”
“It’s very hard to treat, you’re lucky your case is mild.”
Someone offers me a pill
“It’ll make the pain go away.”
GIANT SCISSORS start cutting my flesh as if my skin is a sheet of paper
I still feel pain and wonder why the pill isn’t working
Then, the burning sensation of soapy water inside my skin
STINGING like when you get SHAMPOO IN YOUR EYES
And a stuffing made of ribbon, like they were cramming feathers inside of a pillow
Wrapping up my surgery as if it were a present.
In a few weeks,
those terrible SCISSORS would be back,
my ribbons would be cHaNgEd,
and the cries and screams of an eight-year-old girl would echo throughout the building,
tears of fear and pain bouncing around the corridors
And the worst part would be,
That I couldn’t see any of it,
But I could feel EVERYTHING