Walking down the snow white halls
screams and cries are shouted out
People creating puddles, leaning against the walls,
replacing their bit of hope with doubt.

Tears like raindrops slowly raining down
from glassy burning eyes.
Smiles fading into frowns,
and people flying to the skies.

Its a jail of sorrows and tears,
drowning minds with regrets and loss.
Heros walking down the halls for years,
and people holding on to their cross.

I hear the prayers whispered as quiet as a mouse,
hoping that there will be a better tomorrow.
Its what some people call a death house,
filled with slow beating hearts and sorrow.

White walls and bags of cherry stained sheets,
Where sometimes life is probable.
Fast, slow, and zero heart beats
This is what we all call a hospital.