I can feel it — faint, confined.
It's still there, but undefined.
Just suppressed,
and drugged to rest,
by a pill I couldn’t mind.

My brain won’t think, it slips, it stalls.
Like echoing in padded halls.
It’s wrong, it’s still,
it bends my will —
the silent weight that gently falls.

Traces of fear, of thought, of grace,
drift like mist through a flooded place.
I sense, not live,
no flame to give —
just shadows I can’t face.

Like perfume trails that softly cling —
of fear, of love, of everything.
They haunt, they stay,
but fade away —
as if beneath a wing.

They’re trapped inside, they do not spill.
All smothered
by that morning pill.
It crushed the tide,
the storm, the chill —
the scream I couldn’t will.