'It's not a happy pill,' he asserted,
'you'll have to make life changes too.'
He assumed that's what I wanted- instant happiness and joy,
a world in full color and vibrancy, something to abase the gloom.
What if what I want is planes or trains or automobiles-
something to drive me away from the daze haunting my days?
As when the shower jets burn and cut your skin,
and you cut because that's the only time you let things in,
maybe you don't want something to fight against the warriors,
but to magic you to safety,
safely.
How else is it meant to get better?
Something else picking up the fight
wouldn't shield my ears from the noise
or transport my weary eyes to safety,
safely.
YOU ARE READING
Catherine
Poetry'Lines marry stars making constellations in the dark, yet my line has cut straight through my heart.' An anthology trying to make sense of the darkness in all its forms.
