A poem, found in the comments of NUDGE. By Shawn and Chris
Your mind, has to be much better.
You ‘re not getting shock treatment too?
Not electro-shock, at least
They’re trying to make me look crazy.
Every time i go to the hospital
Strapped to a bed…
You may be fine, but
perhaps the drugs are crazy?
Drugs are how i am…
Where does one end and the other begin?
Is a place ahead
separate from that identity?
(Is this a poem?)
drugs are part of the poem
Life is the poem;
drugs are just your ink.