You stood upon that pedestal, an MIT degree
In math; a research doctor of psychiatry
As for why
you decided
to take interest in me
I had no idea.

I was a lab rat, my life exploded
But for some reason you devoted
Time to me-- from my place
It was insanity; just in case
You gave me a number
Said call
If anything
happens.

In a week and a hundred pills I called

Days later in the ICU I awoke
Very alive but thinking that I broke
My life into irrecoverable pieces

But for some reason you visited.
First you shook your head and said-- well you said
‘You took a lot of medication.’
But at the end of the conversation
You promised you’d check up
Again.

And then, that was when
As I thought I’d used my second chances
Thought my life had made it’s last advances
And all that was left was downhill
Having passed the pinnacle

You shook my hand, from that pedestal
And so matter-of-factly said,
‘You’re going to do well.’

And that really stuck in my head.
The thought that I was salvageable