Ageing like an broken toy by Shannon Baxter

Shy by virtue not by name
that label that they say for me
selective, mute, selective, deaf
but not selectively hurt

and yet each pen mark on their sheet
will diagnose to me
that I to them am like a mistake
their pills erase my function

it’s to be normal they explain to me
it’s so you can live a life
as if the one I have right now
means nothing to all of them

and so they force my mouth open
and place in dictatorship
for what choice is there when you’re alone
trapped by padded walls

and where am I, you think to ask
I’m not stuck, Locked away
I’m wandering through the hospital wards
dressed in black and grey

They may have took my freedom
They can try to take my mind
but I remain somewhere to see

Unable to make a sound

yes just because I’m getting old
shouldn’t mean I’m left behind

just because I may forget a name

doesn’t mean I’ve forget myself

well fine have my money’s worth
I won’t need it when I’m gone
and as you all keep mentioning,
I haven’t really got long

but I just hope that one day too
you’ll know just what it’s like

to age, to break, like a fragile toy

And know that all they need from you

Is your name upon their page?