She used to be good,

Real good.

She had the hands of a barber,

Steady as she went.

They used to be amazed be her,

Talented techniques.

Until, she let go,

And gave the staff a show.

She misdiagnosed every patient,

Didn’t even care if they make it.

What a waste,

She’s fallen off the wagon.

She had a little taste,

Then started to imagine.

This hospital she once knew,

Became not a clue.

Trying to breathe,

She couldn’t.

She was wondering why,

“Why am I tied down and not high!?”

That was it,

She came to realize.

The mental ward made it cozy,

Cozy as can be for people with fits.

She would watch out the window,

As time flew by.

Three years went,

No one said “hi.”

So she sat,

Staring into the distance.

Waiting for the time,

The doctor gives her the chance.