Medication (National Poetry Writing Month 2023 #28)   Leave a comment

I fear I'm a slave to medication  
Without pills, I don't really feel like me
I lack any drive or dedication
To help me live life, to help me break free.

Is it slavery to want to be more
Than a slob staying locked up in my room?
Are these pills key to opening the door
Helping me escape my self-imposed doom?

Do these drugs make a farce of who I am?
Or do they let me show you what is real?
Do they finally let me give a damn?
Or are the drugs here to help me conceal?

For now, I still take them, knowing it's best.
I'm better unsure than being depressed.

– SR Romney 2023

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