Two LIttle Pills

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

There's nothing to say that the poem doesn't say itself.

Submitted: July 30, 2018

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Submitted: July 30, 2018



Take it, they say, and I do. 

It's for the better, they say, and I pretend

to believe them. 

But there's no better medicine than human connection, 

than walks out in nature

where fireflies conjure 

and Cougars roar. 

There's no better medicine than a domestic cat's purr, 

than a puppy's head rub, 

or the bloom of a rose. 


But take it, they say, and I do

for I understand the consequences of moods 

that are self-destructive, 

that cause more pain than happiness ,

and force me to believe

everyone is against me

even as the evidence points otherwise. 


Two little pills will not dictate my life

but they hound my morals mercilessly: 

"You're feeding the demon, Big Pharma; 

going against what you believe in, 

what Karma 

Will that produce at the end of your life spain

here on earth?

You're hurting your liver, your kidneys, your organs. 

How will your heart feel after 21 years of torture 

by two little pills?

Don't you remember Prolonged QT

or have you forgotten you're getting a science degree? 

It can cause a fatal arrhythmia after prolonged use

of antipsychotics, 

and who knows this but you? 

A psychiatrist won't tell you, 

A physician won't tell you, 

and yet you take those two little pills

against your very own will."


This is all the little voice in my head, 

the one that used to constantly want me dead. 

And now he begs for me to save my life

by throwing away those two little pills

that cause me so much moral strife. 

© Copyright 2018 A.D. Ware. All rights reserved.

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