I cry out begging for relief
My hands pointed outward
A slow death , of poison
They ask what's wrong?
I cannot articulate.
No one sees my wounds.
They gather data in hopes for a solution, they've grown weary too!

So, take these! Morning, noon, and night. Give time, be patient!
Maybe so, maybe this is working.
Yet, I stop lifting my hands to the heavens seeking the grace and mercy I have always craved.
Now my mind is chemically covered, so I feel better now...
Yet,  what answered my prayers?