Of late I see less of pink, more of blue, grey, blueish grey.
And electrically powered monsters to consume me.
These beasts vary.
Some to be placed on the back to detect the beating of my heart,
some with numbers to monitor the condition of my blood.
Then occasionally demons enter, with their weapons of mass destruction.
A needle attached to a tube and a packet containing colourless liquid.
And the demon executes it's task, saying, sweetheart, it'll be like an ant bite.
The thing about demons, they lie.
I feel the pain of the needle, and I see my crimson.

Once in a while, when I'm left alone to think,
I stare at the machines, the emergency help button and my name at the side of the bed.
Then my spirits sink into the depths.
When the demons re-enter they reassure me,
this is for your own good.

People say health is measured by the condition of your soul.
But you base your reports on my temperature and the state of my blood.
No, you don't know what I need.
And you can't give me what I need to survive.

Now I often wonder
if I'm still natural.
Whether my blood would turn from crimson to brown.
Whether my heart still breaks.
Because recently, the coloured capsules are the ones sustaining me.