Overdosed when I was 2
on St Joseph asprin,
because they tasted so good,
I ate the whole bottle
just to proove it.
With child proof lid flipped
on the bathroom floor
daddy found me and an
empty bottle that morning,
so he sped to the hospital
in seconds flat
stirring policemen
to follow his tracks.
How I remember the
sirens roaring
with officers on motorcycles
pulling him over,
discovering the state
of his baby daughter
they royally escorted him
to the emergency room
where doctors quickly
attended me, on a table
putting a hose up my nose
and down into my stomach.
Being that my daddy
was a dentist,
those were the days
they'd let him stay.
So he gently pet my head
saying, ''everything's going
to be okay''.
I survived, in a hospial bed
with nurses lifting my head,
giving me seltzer instead of water,
I felt every bubble go
up in my nose,
where moments ago,
I had a hose.
How strange it is now
looking past,
at the suicidal child I was,
just trying to get back,
to the source.
Copyright ©2005
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
well written, adrienne, and a question worth asking. u.xxx