Bored on the Ward

Restless inmates fidget in plastic chairs
While pencils tap, tap, tap out rhythms
That echo through the dingy white halls.

Back and forth, wardens pace the floors.
Words drone on deaf ears as glazed eyes
Scan the meaningless graffiti on the walls.

The clock ticks off time, second by second
As the captives idly bide each minute
Until the hour of sweet pardon befalls.

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