The Shake of a Pill Bottle


That is what they say the cure to depression is
the shake of a pill bottle
spilling it's guts into my hand
or as it's thrown at my face
with enough force to send me reeling
Doctor's notes and bottles and bottles of pills
that I will stare at for months
and never use
as to me they are useless
The cure to my depression
isn't within a fake smile trapped in a pill bottle
my cure isn't to be shaken
only stirred and scratched and held
between pointer and thumb
tied up, wrapped, and hidden so well
That if I showed you where I hid it
You would think
"Oh, coin-purse!"
but no
my cure cannot be bought in doctors visits
or found in shaken bottles of worthless pills
My cure is found on shelves of hardware stores
razor sharp and dozens of them
razor blades and can you count them
I once held five
but now hold one
stolen from me
with shouts of "danger" and "caution"
to me they were not a friend
or some dangerous thing
to me those blades they are my cure
for at least they accomplished something
something so much more
than fake smiles in shaking bottles of pills

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This Poems Story

I have depression and people constantly want me to be cured or get better and to lighten up. Doesn't help, same as the pills I haven't used in ages because I hate the fake smile they force me to wear