0 Medicine

Medicine.
All you think of- Medicine.
Your medicine only
The medicine that blinds your pain,
That special medicine that, for a short while,
Eludes you into false, temporary happiness.
Your medicine.

In days past, there was a time.

A time when you were once so immensely bright.
Your future, dreams, and simple pleasures-
These things you sought after dearly.

In days past, you knew your identity

Or at least thought you did.
You were stronger;
You had will.

Thoughts of these days merely fade away, however.

They fade into the darkness, like the smoke you exhale
And disintegrate to nothing,
Just as your mind and body has.

Medicine.

Slowly, it eats you alive.
It bends your will, erases your strength.
Your medicine- your life
Or so you think.

The real "you" is weeping;

It struggles, to no avail
To be let out once again.
The "you" that cared.
The "you" that hoped and thought.

Now-a-days, however,

You dwindle your life away.
Medicine, or so you think it is.
It's vital to you; crucial.

Medicine;

It becomes your friend
Because no other being is left to understand a carcass
A carcass devoured by itself,
Hollow of mind Hollow of strength Hollow of hope-
Because of medicine.
Your medicine.

In the end, there you are.

With your medicine-
Both, left as nothing more than ash.
Ash- burned remains of your strength
Singed promises of what could've been.
What you used to be is now all but a memory.

All because of the medicine.

 

--Marisol H., 15