It's very good. I wrote a poem about 7months ago regarding my bipolar and the meds I was taking...

Pills.
Pills.
Pills.
Capsules that lock me in a cell
Of padded walls.

As I throw them down the well,
I fall in after.

I land on my back and try to get up
But all I can do is lay there stuck.

Wishing it was over.
Wishing it wasn't.
I begin to ponder.
Of things many just can't.

I'm up all night and I go for a walk.
Just me and the night.
The blue hued black sky.
For when I take those stupid pills,
I feel the numbing bite.
From life.

Pills

Morning dawns
And I begin to yawn.
Today shall not be easy.

Pills

I begin to crash
And I continue to fast.
Coffee enters the room in a rather dashing manner.
And yet like a Phoenix,
I rise from the ashes and clammer
Of my pulsing grave.

I feel empowered.
I feel strong.
I feel like I am that chosen ONE.

Hunger is absent
And so am I.
School is beneath me as I begin to roam the streets of the city.
Happy little tears
I cry

My mind is one with the Trains
That stem.
And for today it is just me and them.
These sky scrapers

And they contain.
All the things my mind must refrain
From accessing.
Roofs to waltz off of.

Pills

Music is loud and so are my thoughts.
I feel good as if I am on top.
I am a God with wings that soar and I look down on the city.
All the others on its floor.

Dancing is my true mode of transportation.
A drive that doesn't require a license.
I can do anything until I crash.

I am a sexy Porsche
Radiant euphoria.
I go fast fast fast until I spiral out of control.

I hit 195
I feel the most alive.
Just as I smell the danger.

Like rain or black ice
Swerve
Screech
Crash

Pills

My pieces are everywhere

I'm Shattered glass.

I roll out and onto the floor.
Wishing life was no more.

Dreaming of graves and skeletal raves.
I begin to crawl
My legato rumba
Back Into my bed.

The sun burns as life turns black.
And I am all just a small linen hill.
Consuming nothing But
Pills
Pills
Pills.

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