Sections. A poem about being sectioned

CW: suicide, self harm,restraint, forced medication, abuse



Locked away
Months go by and never allowed outside.

Rights taken off you.
Medication forced upon you.
Clothes stripped off you.
Possessions hidden away from you.

Yelled at,

Constantly watched,
Lights always on.
Never can sleep,
Nothing to eat.

Forced to talk,
Even though the words fail.
Called names.
Jokes made at your expense.

Nothing to do,
Except stare at walls.
Plotting your escape
Is all you live for.

Alarms pulled
With joints twisted up behind your back.
Then suddenly head against the cold floor.
Held down by 4 men, and forcibly injected.

Made to go to meetings.
You’re discussed, but your voice is not important.
They talk numbers and debate what to do with you,
As you sit there rocking.

You’re a list of diagnoses.
They tut as they hear BPD.
And then they question if you are faking for attention.
You scream ‘no’, yet all that does is cause an alarm to ring and pound your ears.

You need to go outside.
But until you’re deemed ‘good enough’
No chance!
Trapped inside as the days and nights become one.

Drugged up
Like a zombie
You shuffle around,
As do the other patients.

You are expected to survive this.
You are expected to not want to run away.
You are expected to remain calm.

‘How can I?’ I think.
For I am in living hell and I can’t cope.


That’s what it’s really like, a living hell.

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