RXistentialism

You will be beautiful
A patched sweater
Wrinkled, stained
In the back of your closet
Thrown next to the
DIY distillery that you
Crafted near the end of your senior year.
But you will be beautiful.

Beautiful,
Like the open-mic nights you went to
to see amateur blues and
You decided to slam;
Among the crowd of sad songs and bad comedy,
You yelled about how perfect and wonderful every last thing was.
You flapped your arms and crooned that
It was all beautiful.

Your sister was ADD
And the RX bottles
Cured your mother’s lectures;
There were no more 4 hour tantrums.
It was quiet, and it was beautiful.

Your 1.8 GPA screamed at you-
Where was your miracle?
Your bottle of motivation?
You were convinced that Adderal
Had graced your sister with a power you didn’t have.
Not careful what you wish for,
You cannot remember what it meant to be you;
Swimming in a sea of 300mg of Carbamazepine
And you don’t remember beautiful.

There is no more manic,
You are singularly polar
But there is no clarity to
Where you end and, where a prescription pad begins.
You, Schrodinger’s diagnosis,
Wincing and cringing
While a syringe is plunged into your veins
Closer to your heart then you’ve been in a long time.
A few crimson drops fall after what’s needed is given,
You wonder if they are beautiful.

Your bottles are wax wings,
An overbearing sun grows closer, intense
But you fly among angels
Touching heaven because you are like God.
Dancing with miracles on your tongue
Downed with a glass of water every morning.

You are saved.
After the saving,
You are not anything.

In a fit of mania that broke through the chemicals
You chose insanity,
A stained, torn-up mind that
Abused itself in the most loving way.
Though you were not a sight for unforgiving eyes,
You ran naked through your uncertain future
Screaming that you were beautiful.
And it was, and you were.