written by: Jack Wolfe Frost
Take this pill my doctor says, it will make you feel alright,
Really? It’s that simple? Only a pill to end my plight?
He assures me it is so, and expert he must be,
Certificates on the wall, displayed that I may see.
Thus the pills I take, three times a day, that’s what I have to do,
He said that they will ease my pain and help me see it through,
Each day that was for me a pain, great suffering in the dark,
I cannot wait for this to end, and the striving to depart.
Next morning. Things are changed. I think,
Yes. Pain has gone. Numbness. I blink,
Darkness. Gone. I should be happy. Yes?
The world. It’s strange. I wonder – happiness?
No not a dream, something else? Another place and time?
I struggle to remember. My wife says I am fine.
She says the pills are working. She says I now behave,
So I must be good. But cannot think. This is a shallow grave.
- Find Me - October 2, 2020
- Is This What It’s To Come? - April 30, 2020
- Death - September 16, 2019