Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Mental Medicine

Plink, plink the pill goes down again.
Routine, patterns never broken.
Chemist keepers served their purpose,
Sentenced -when can I be woken?

Happy chatter, silly - returns the child.
Un-numbed, sedate constrained her nature.
She lives within, waiting to come out,
But, what form or person is the wager.

Architecture holds her steel frame.
Contorted by pain - intensely trained,
By enterology she survives,
Another day, steps ingrained.

Hear me hurting - silence by design.
So much easier to handle a mime.
Perform charade, pleasing the crowd.
Squeezing her life, repeating the crime.

Back-bending to conform to others,
Dishonors her spirit and soul,
Year after year, held firmly restraint,
Don't the chemicals take their tole?

Who is at the helm, master in control,
Sovereignty knows her schematics.
Can she ever from elements by free?
Post-traumatic Hippocratics.

No comments:

Post a Comment

We always love to have reader input, feedback, thoughts.