Aftermath of Forcible Medication in Verse

Aftermath

Glorious Technicolor evaporates
And all is monochrome once again
In my world shades of grey collide
And all colour is banished

(In the dayroom
I press my cheek against
The cool window
The flowers beyond the glass
Are drained of colour too)

And I wonder
Before the medication,
Bursting through my brain and
Taking hold, like some bush fire
Did I really conjure up
Those sacred inner visions
That appeared to me
With so much clarity
All by myself?

My identity has been stripped away
Where am I now?
Are my tears contained
In some sealed vessel in my head?
Where has my inner kaleidoscope gone?
The one that whirled though my mind
The one that dazzled me
When I was an internal traveller
Through the long corridors inside me

Why am I so tightly curled?
Why am I not whirling
In the middle of the dance floor
In that pale cream castle in my head?
I no longer have access to
The coloured box
That contained my dreams
Someone has stolen that
From my inner kingdom too

I was once an angel
Who could soar
Through the sky
But no one sees that now
Instead they see a girl
In a hospital bed
With slit wrists
And junked out eyes
Forcibly caricatured

I am now a sorrowful angel
An angel of blood and dust
I have lost control
And there is a revolution
Raging in my head
The real me is gone
Trapped in a memory cloud

Deep inside my mind
Those voices that populate
My inner cities
The Youths on the streets
Once intrepid and wise,
Now unemployed, homeless,
Chanting down world leaders

They have consigned
Loving Gestures
To forgotten halls
Where my heart
Used to beat

They pump more magic potions
Into me. And the magic bullet
Roars to the centre of my soul
Where my dreams are cultivated.

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3 Responses to “Aftermath of Forcible Medication in Verse”

  1. slpmartin Says:

    You’ve captured a voice I have not heard before…one that I should have heard before…and one I’m glad I had a chance to hear. Thanks!

    Like

  2. Louise Says:

    Thank you. It’s stream of consciousness.

    Like

  3. This Week in Mentalists (117) « Mental Nurse Says:

    […] Some poetry from So Sick of Drowning. I was once an angel Who could soar Through the sky But no one sees that now Instead they see a girl In a hospital bed With slit wrists And junked out eyes Forcibly caricatured […]

    Like

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