Happy Pill
6/01/13
A small tiny prick
A round little thing
To much time to think
Trapped in a restless mind
Scars were wounds
Wounds once to deep
Proof of every battle won
And every battle lost
Plagued by sickness
Healed to fast
Brought on illness
An almost loss
This happy pill
Has lost its strength
Weakened by it
Strong without it
Been to hell and back
Trips which gone too long
Came out fighting
Long and Strong
This poem is about:
Me
Our world
Guide that inspired this poem: