Happy Pill



A small tiny prick

A round little thing

To much time to think

Trapped in a restless mind


Scars were wounds

Wounds once to deep

Proof of every battle won

And every battle lost


Plagued by sickness

Healed to fast

Brought on illness

An almost loss


This happy pill

Has lost its strength

Weakened by it

Strong without it


Been to hell and back

Trips which gone too long

Came out fighting

Long and Strong

This poem is about: 
Our world
Guide that inspired this poem: 


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