Deep pockets of gloom,
anger sits like a sieve on the soil (soul).
You are alone in this uncertain place.
To acknowledge a life that is broken,
seams frayed like the edges
of your forgotten joy,
discarded on a shelf 20 years ago.
It is time to dig yourself out of this nightmare
disguised as a dream.
A dream down a rabbit hole that
once felt familiar has become
an illusion of safety.
Screaming down an ever narrowing path,
a constriction of the soul:
Who does it belong to?
What is it worth?
Surely more than the quarter
slid into a coin slot and
out pops a cheap toy reward.
You are more than a plastic prize
destined to be thrown away after the fascination fades.
200 Milligrams at a Time 