WIP-my time with angels in hell

I was in hell for a while before I knew it.  I'd travelled quite a distance but not gotten through it. I stared at the others who journeyed there, faces tired and worn with care. Angels of mercy, delivering pain, smile, apologize, jab it again.  Hell is populated with innocents and saints, all stuck in like flies in paint. I told myself i was on TV, some scifi show that didn't star me.  As an extra I played my part, laying on machines like engineer's art. The soundtrack made by IV pumps is the perfect song when you're down in the dumps. I smile and cry and wonder why.  Why so many of us here in hell? Why so many of us so unwell? I feel ashamed of my full head of hear to see so many bald women there. I used to feel so sure I knew the cause and I had the cure. Now others tried to put their ideas in my head on how I could best crawl out of my bed. I spent my days in a drug filled haze wondering, is this the new me? Is this how my life will be? Am I a lucky one, will I break free? Or is that merely a rest stop I see?
I could tell who was new by how much they cried. Look at the seniors and wonder why I haven't died. Frail and pale and ailing, they stare into space waiting for resolution, a solution, a cure or a dying.
It's easier to be strong there, Someone always has it worse.

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