Pills and Despair

I look over my shoulder and down my arms
tar stained digits grasp a pill bottle
Eleven different pills sit inside
Can’t be a cure all echoes through the darkest corners of the subconscious
Despair wraps around tired lungs
I rehearse the eleven medications
The three blue pills kill hope
Without hope futures whither away behind razors
They make the weight in already heavy limbs bone crushing
This was a misdiagnosis
The three red pills makes the mind soar
They fight the pressure that suffocates the body and makes the mind real
Red pills whisper to be taken when they shouldn’t
The orange pill causes sanity to fade away
That pill causes crippling shudders of distaste
White pill makes the blanket of sleep a trap
Purple pill creates an allergic reaction
Purple pill was suppose to be the saving grace
Yet another misdiagnosis

Hope is starting to taste bitter
I Have to continue
I count the pills over again and then stop
That leaves the one yellow pill and the one green pill
Yellow pill is a lost friend
A shield that deflects unwanted memories and broken dreams dubbed night terrors
Correct diagnosis
Terrifying diagnosis, it’s a leash that you forget your attached to until you run to far
Green pill, the green pill is new
It means another diagnosis, a correct diagnosis
A diagnosis that turns emotions into a storm,
It makes lows really low
The green pill breaths air back into hungry lungs
And eats away at the weight
Hope is finally tasting less bitter
Some people know and rehearse poetry, I rehearse medication