A day at therapy and meditation,
to improve my train of thought,
we improve on something every Wednesday,
a new way of thinking, taught.
Today she complimented me in each and every way,
my head turns off, my ears can't hear,
The negative, more acceptable words to say.
Somehow this is trauma from my past,
since a child, people didn't last.
And so my therapist says I have an empty hole,
We need to fill it up, and make me whole.
I'm furious with my medications,
I'm tempted to throw them out,
this is a sucky way to live,
It makes you want to shout.
The side effects are numerous,
the hands shaking are the best,
blurry eyes, no appetite, from this I want a rest.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (A Day by Lilyann Monahan )
- What The Culture Drug In - Da Dammerrung.., Warren Falcon
- my thumbs were once pro twiddlers, Mandolyn ...
- Await for your return, Fluorescent Reality
- Serenade To Love, David Harris
- MONSTER FORCE WARS, shannon strauss
- i write because i'm not very good at darts, Mandolyn ...
- Light, Neela Nath
- Inbetweeness-painful midlife blues, Nalini Chaturvedi
- In that april shadow, Pradip Chattopadhyay
- Remembering Love, Ron Baratono