This is a
bitter pill
you offer
me,
a bitter
pill
it tastes
of bile and pain
of vomit
and despair
a hard encrusted
purgative
on your
outstretched hand
What is
your aim?
to fool
me
into
thinking
I am
getting better
at this game?
No
pain
is no way
forward
it is from
the past,
a learned
response,
and one I
choose not
to
inflict upon myself
again
neural
pathways
may be
redrawn
hearts
may be
taught
to
forgive
to love
hands
to touch,
to brush
skin,
to stroke
hair,
to heal
So take
this pill
you wish
to see me swallow
take it
and
dispense it
elsewhere
I have no
time for your
so-called
medicine.
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