"Please stop, please, would you?
Can't you see that my son is in pain?"
Cried the mother aloud, with resounding hopes of seeing the doctor
Again.
The doctor a year older than thirty two, says-
"He Is a patient without any patience, its true,
Your son is baffled and a catatonic mass..."
The mother cried aloud-" please doctor, o doctor help us....!"
He sits down at the desk, checks his pulse,
His cheek, his bones, his eyes at last,
"Catatonic, catatonic" he murmurs twice,
Says to the mother about "being encephalitic, which is as cold as ice..."
The mother nods to almost everything he says,
Takes the prescription, gives his pay,
Goes out to the booth, to fill up the form,
Thinks to herself, "my son would be really well someday."
"With newer meds, He would talk like how grown ups do,
He would write stories about his aunt Mary too,
She is still alive, loves him very much,
Perhaps he would be just fine, by the next lunch at home?
Perhaps no one would be no longer be alone anymore?
Perhaps at home? With everyone together?
Perhaps with everyone back at home, helter skelter?"
Months go by, the doctor, Mr Sacks,
Discovered a new medic, which carried the potency to release the germ,
He treated it on his patient Leonard Lowe,
Within an hour, he became a man, as creative as god can be.
Months and months added up to a year,
Leonard has now somehow, recovered himself into a well bred man,
But, as awakenings come, god keeps all other plans, at bay..
God is not chemistry, that can be studied at hand.
With Side effects, and more, he now became paranoid,
His head moved and shivered, his eyes now continued to toy,
He received a awakening from an awful dream,
He now received paranoia from his newer medicines.
Lowe was really well for a summer, he tasted ice creams,
Lowe was really well for a summer, he drew a painting,
A painting of what simple chemistry can do,
A painting that all doctors can never be true.
His mother was still crying aloud with resounding hopes to see the doctor again,
She was screaming, helplessly " please stop, would you?
Don't you see that my son is in pain?"
Since the doctor said-" that awakenings are once and can never be said"
The doctor went to the other chamber,
That evening, "to read a story again,
Which he perhaps, never read."
Chemistry, it can never be said.
Chemistry, is but an awful arrangement of certain probabilities in sets.
The mother was still screaming-"don't you see that my son is in pain?"
For, Leonard Lowe has now become catatonic again.