Sertraline
The days here are so long.
They go by like years
spent in a prison cell
in solitary confinement.
I tick the hours
on the walls of my mind.
The drugs have taken my vices,
the drives and urges,
and I’m now swimming
through a foggy haze of numbness,
but I’m alive I guess,
though maybe undead.
I don’t feel as crazy;
the moods aren’t shifting
like desert sands,
the infernal days and the cold lonely nights;
there’s just sameness.
I guess this is what sanity feels like.
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