Place of Birth

It's a poem. About a terrible stint I had in a terrible hospital.

Return to your place of birth
And give a vile of blood
Watch it in the vile
The air gives way to flood

Lie down on the bed
In that awful gown
Look the twelfth floor window
At that awful town

The doctors saunter in
Tests are said and done
They don't know what's wrong
That say that you're too young

Now on your bed alone
Pondering existence
That you were born here
And the places you've been since

Return to your place of birth
To find out you're okay
But you know otherwise
It'll strike again someday.