Liberation

Some days
I don't remember the way you ran

Sometimes
I can't remember how much you cried

I hardly ever recall
the quantifiable amounts
measured out and labelled
by the staff in white coats


the clock continuing the hours
of the toxic voice inside you
again
and again

Perhaps you dreamed of a garden
as you ran and ran away
from the four walls of raw wrists
the isolated marked not fit for life
 they designated
again
and again.