The withdrawals are enough to send me back to the holding cells
They are more than enough to make me feel worse than before I was prescribed solidified chemicals in the form of hopefulness and the idea of retiring tiredness
When was the last time you medicated regularly? they will ask me
When did you first begin to forget more than you cared to care?
And I will laugh at them. I will cry from the shock of such potent disbelief
I will tell them You gave yet another burden to hands already full and cramped from the never-ending and futile efforts of keeping all of myself above the ground
What did you think would happen?
You are trying so desperately to prolong a life that was already pronounced dead upon arrival

The world will end with my lack of patience and my inability to find purpose in healthfulness
What could you ever do to stop that?