The Pills

I know my words
don't always have to rhyme
but more often than not they do
the meter and the measure
can't always be in time
but the words are mine
and the story's true

Why does heartache
always seem to choose
to be my inspiration and my muse
These damn pills I take
hurt me when they
take away my blues
Heads they win
tales I lose

That's not a mispelled word
at the end of the last verse
these non-mannic moments are the worst
Not high not low
can't laugh or cry
and my thinking's slow

when I awake
and take my morning breath
I swallow my daily dose of poetic death
and I feel a numbing sadness
almost rage
when my words no longer fly
across the page
I sit and stare
at nothing there.

I think I'd really
rather be insane
and pen away my madness
love and pain
Sure enough I might not live as long
but at least it wouldn't take a day
to write a song  

  [ Poet' View: The problem with BPD is that a poet misses the mania! ]      

puck61 puck61
51-55, M
2 Responses Feb 24, 2008

Just had to check on you and see what's happening. I haven't been here much lately. It was good to read your poem and I hope you are doing OK. Hugs, Mox