Chemical Bath

My mother she bathes me in a chemical bath.

It's much more fun than the putrid rain,

That showers down from the clouds above.

And stains my dirty face with its acid touch.

Mother,

She gives me a medicine meal.

The pills and the powders

Laid out for me,

In a fashionable way.

Arranged by size and color.

For easy consumption.

Mother she speaks with a robotic voice.

Her words they mean nothing human.

Dead pan.

Her cadence.

Her expression.

She says it makes her easier to understand.

But I,

I want not chemicals.

I,

I want not pills.

I,

I want not understanding.

I,

I want love.

But mother still gives me my chemical bath.

Beneath the acid rain.

And mother still speaks in her robot's voice.

Ever still the same.

And I,

I died from an overdose,

At the tender age of three.

See, chemical baths and pill-filled smiles

Are not a life to live.