Blind man's buff

Blind man’s buff.
When I was ten, I played blind man’s buff,
A self inflicted loss, a game of ten,
blind to the sequel, blind to everything,
though only transient, me thought,
we played and laughed, we clapped,
and trapped, lost and won,
Jubilation as if crowns and kingdoms
were got, riches and spoils donned,

My past rotates in the wheel chair,
Wheeling me into the corridors
Of the hospital, consciousness forsook
Me, beneath the anesthetist,
Lights focused on my face,
I was placed on the clean linen bed,
Incision on the right stomach,
for the wrong diagnosis,

then too, blind and unaware
to surroundings.
My eyes are closed, now, me
on the reclining sofa,
yet bruised feelings awake
to perjury, deception, fraud,
still , blind to growing shams
that creep around.