Little lumps all around. They are connected to machines, heartless machines that are the only source of life. With a beep comes a heartbeat, with a pump comes a breath. They look around but find no one. Little lumps all around.
It’s cold, it’s white, it’s gray. There’s nothing else to it but that.
Little lumps all around. Their black eyes filled with innocence stare at me quietly, expecting me to do something. If only I could pry those cables off, take them home and give the childhood they deserve.
Little lumps all around and they don’t deserve to be here. One cries, another one gets startled and for one second, does absolutely nothing. Then he remembers he is scared. Does he remember his mother is not around, his father is probably a worthless rapist and the humans around him won’t look at him with a kind gaze? They will make sure he survives and is sent off to a troubled life. He starts to cry. They all start to cry. I smile inside. They’re still alive.
Little lumps all around. Pale, scared, lonely.
God, I hate visiting the children’s hospital.
Biomed’s rule number 1.