The drugs have given me a piece of mind
An artificial calmness.
I firmly believe that they are not making me better
They haven't changed my brain chemicals to cope
They haven't cured my depression
They've sugar coated it
With artificially flavored banana
Which is the worst kind of flavor
So now I look at the world
And everything is pastel yellow
There's color now, so that's cool I guess.
But I think the various shades of black and grey
Were preferable to this manufactured apathy
And sure, its better than burning rage
that made me afraid of looking in the mirror
But is mediocrity really the life I'm to live?
How much of a choice do I have?
My emotions are like a sneeze that just won't happen
Where everything is on pause until I scream and clear the air
I am tolerable when I've taken my pills
And I guess its the better option
Than being too tired to want to die.