A Poem I've Attempted Many Times Before About My Weeks in the Mental Hospital

Not nearly as glamorous as Plath's The Bell Jar,

nor quite are horrifying as Dante's Inferno.

Mostly I watched reality television, played ping-pong

and lied to my psychiatrist

while adorned in pajamas that I've since lost

and slippers that weren't mine to begin with.

The food was better than expected;

they probably released me too early.