Medicated Identity

Swimming in your system,

Controlling inhibitions,

Grasping all the wrong

And chemically dissipating

This lurking condition…

 

Head spinning in all directions

To words

with senseless meanings,

All remain valid that your

Current state is intervening,

With your goals, dreams,

Just accept it, they say,

I have the authority

But no scepter to take your

Pain away…

 

You can try,

But try harder,

This chemically-enhanced

Substance will alter

Your mind…

Yes, a bigger image

will appear in the mirror,

miss your former self,

for unhappiness

is what you will find.

 

But then I can keep writing

Dose after dose,

Your mind hazy and comatose,

But your highs under control…

No room for misdiagnose,

 

But you just have to accept it…

Face it…

That you are subject to these

Drugs all your life.

You try to escape the prison

But too much freedom

Leaves room for destruction

And strife,

 

Your blood needs to be regulated,

Your brain needs to be medicated,

Your veins ache

 with loss

where only

Substance can sedate it…

 

I say that is not an answer,

But we have to

swallow down acceptance,

Just as the pills

We take day to day.

 

Medicated identity,

 

Because part of who you are

Resides in your condition,

Your mission?

To lay down submission

That there is no escaping

This demolition..

 

You have no choice

But to accept it,

And ingest it.

Metabolizing in your blood,

It warms you from head to toe,

But you still feel numb,

for you have no place to go.

There is no cure,

There is no helping hand,

No one who truly

 cares and understands.

 

Medicated identity,

 

Because part of who you are

And who you will be, resides

In mediation imprisonment

Although they tell you

You will be free…

 

Kena SunGoddess Dawn  2009

 

 

Author's Note

Medicated Identity
This was written
when I was fed up with
Psychiatrists, and medications, and conditions.
It is a poem that had been held inside me
for a very long time,
and my frustrations boiled over.
I had to let my pen bridle
this fiery cauldron of emotions.
Psychiatrists are quick to
write slips and make diagnosis,
but what about the person?
The human in the condition?
Struggling with bipolar disorder since I was 21,
it’s a question that has gone too many years unanswered…