Psychotropic Medley Poem by Richard St. Clair

Yes, talking is a way to quell the panic,
As is a good night's sleep, so people say,
And yet the healing gods I must repay
For meds that keep me from becoming manic;
And as for drugs that treat my complex trauma,
I feel like I'm a pill stuffing machine,
Morning, noon and night and in-between,
A veritable psychotropic drama.
I wonder how the folks who have no money
Manage when they're feeling down and out
At times when all they're able is to shout
In pain and anguished symptoms, it's not funny.
How I used to medicate my pain -
I don't ever want to go through that again.