Waiting Room

The elevator dings open slowly.

The music replays the same polite tune.

Joining the crowd, I try to make some room.

My mom, next to me, fakes a smile poorly.

My one solace, the doll I hold closely,

My distraction from the pounding head wound.

They smile, knowing what might happen soon,

As we enter a place far from homely.

Not my first time, nor will it be my last.

The building that advertises safety

Is forever in nightmares of the past.

Mentally scarred, physically shaky,

It’s funny how they never thought to ask.

So, I did what I had to do, bravely.