By Bella Braxton

White light from tubes implanted in the ceiling
Like clear plastic tubes implanted in our skin
When we can’t do anything but sit there
Watching and hoping for the best
Hoping for a future

White paper is going down the rows
Like bills for the promise of life
That we pay with our time

White walls
That despite their best intentions
Remind us
That no matter how we live
Someone else will live a life we will envy.