Clear like muddy water,
fluid, but opaque,
is my mind.
With each capsule that I swallow,
I get more and more,
foggy.

Prescriptions as if I need them.
Needing them as though I'm broken.
Maybe I am,
broken.
Maybe I am,
shattered.

Shattered as glass cracks.
In other words,
it doesn't.
Instead, it breaks into countless pieces,
never to be fixed again.

Oh, I'd give anything to be fixed again.
I'd give anything,
to feel clear again.