[Poetry (General--not Contest)]
A chemical imbalance is all it is,
At least that’s what they say.
Just need to find the right combo of pills,
Connect to receptors and sway, sway, sway,
Get the synapsis snapping in the best possible way.
Don’t be self-conscious about all that it is,
Don’t...because you’re far from alone.
If your meds were for some other ill,
You’d feel quite right, right, right at home,
Never giving your mind the time to roam.
God is simply an abstract therapy,
Jesus is just another drug,
Endorphins will follow any and all faiths,
Making you feel so snug, snug, snug,
Like an enveloping and suffusing hug.
Now you’ve got it all going just right,
Avoiding the lows by sacrificing the highs.
You can function properly day to day,
Without asking all the why why, whys,
Firmly grounded, but unable to fly.
Sure the other alternative is always there,
And you know they won’t discuss that route.
They say it’s selfish and unreasonable,
But you can sense their doubt, doubt, doubt,
Flat-lining is a flat-life you can do without.
Flat-lining is a flat-lie,
And I’m ready to check out.