Antidepressant

The drug coos at me like a mother.
"Everything will be okay," and I, the
Child who'd wished to die, must listen,
And must close my eyes, as all that
Had before been ruined, focused on,
Appears the same. I do not see a
Point to living. I just hear the coo.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 96 times
Written on 2015-07-23 at 14:24

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