Swallowing a pill doesn’t
Give me a father.
I could inhale all the pills in the world
But a little girl would still be without
Those stubbled hugs and a hand to hold.
I can talk a lot.
I can fill a silent room with words
-if you want-
Talk of all the times that hurt to remember
But those memories wont unstick.
Shoot me with electricity and
Shock my body like a criminal
On death row-
Charged with not letting go.
Tell me I’m just ill.
Tell me I’ll get better
Because maybe I will.
I apologise for the -slightly- gloomy tone of this post! Maybe one day I shall command my creative juices to be more cheery but until then, it looks like I’ll be needing permanent tissues stapled to my cheeks!