Day: Mar 1, 2021

The pills melt into the ground where wild flowers once grew,

Violets mixing with tinctures and turning into glue.

I promised you last Sunday that I will take the path home

But now I am convinced – to each their own.

There are concrete blocks building in my cold, twisted veins

As I turn towards you and lift up my veil.

Seven muted tongues speak for me but they tell you lies.

I hope to god someone rips off this disguise.

When they put me on the stage, I swallow the rising fury

Along with the medicine that never cured me.

“It’s only dress rehearsal, protest all you want, honey.”

The lights turn my head a little blurry.