Various Poems

Ode to a Doctor Who Misdiagnosed me

Trying to treat bipolar disorder with antidepressants is trying to turn on a lamp
that isn't plugged in.

Thank you to whatever doctor decided it would be such a splendid idea to give me antidepressants
The burns that were left on my body day after day from too hot of a lightbulb only made them screw a hotter wattage
into the lamp that is me.

It turns out, the brighter the wattage that went down my throat, the darker I was forced to shine.

Eventually I was dragged into a hospital,
A place for us lamps that have been labeled "broken"
We are locked inside this psychiatric facility as they experiment on us until we start to work
After their many attempts failed, they changed the brand of the bulb stuck into my metal lined throat as nothing more than another attempt at forcing me to light up.

They started me off small,
About 25 mg was the wattage
That lime green pill they fed me off a silver platter with an extra large side of lies hardly challenged the size of a singular grain of rice.
But that rice sized pill I was required to swallow every morning did nothing to help my problems.

My doctors saw that, despite changing the brand of the bulb they forcefully shoved down my swollen throat,
I continued to refuse to shine.
So once again they upped its wattage,
I quickly returned to shining the light of no hope which was becoming all too familiar to me.

I finally started resisting their attempts to fix me
I stopped letting those bulbs get screwed into my threaded throat and into my heavily drugged body.
It was now that this lamp who had been labeled "broken" finally had a voice:
"I don't need your twisted light bulbs, they only make me emit darkness."

All of this could have been avoided,
If somebody had checked to see if this lamp was just unplugged.