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Medicate My Problems
Prozac lies fill my head, maybe now I can wake up.
Does anyone remember the days when happiness was not prescribed by a doctor?
Slowly I open my eyes and wince at the harshness of the sun.
I really need to buy those blinds.
The cold hard wood floor shocks my body at first step and creeps up my calf until I find comfort of the rug.
I look up at the purple cat, That clashes with my yellow wall, it's digital eyes are telling me it is seven o'clock in the morning.
It speaks to me with each wag of it's robotic tail.
"It's to early to be alive"
My stomach starts to stir with each wave of dizziness from watching the feline tic.
I pull it off the wall and throw it to the floor.
Walking to my room, I put a blanket over the window, hiding the sun from my sleep.
I think back to my new clock.
But I realize I don't need to know the time anymore.
Because my time is up.
