doctors
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Why do they keep doing this to me?
Don't they know I'm F'ed up on several meds?
That I'm emotionally unstable?
I walk into the doctor’s office.
She looks at me.
I see her thinking,
Okay, no worries
Look at this girl
Thin
Tall
Young
No drinking
Before, She laid in a hospital bed
Now, she makes sure the dogs are fed.
Before, She was surrounded by nurses.
Now, she collects designer purses.
Her family used to hope and try
From start to end , it is sheer toil;
He always burns the mid-night oil,
His character, conduct shouldn't spoil;
He learns patience and not to boil!
He must heed to his conscience;
Yeah, let it be they say
But nah, what’s the point of it?
When life isn’t rife with objectives
You got to hand it to them, what’s life without discipline?
A beautiful house sits on a hill
One that was built from scratch
I watched as the owner designed it;
To help, to endure, and to care,
To make the world, noble and fair,
To be able to heal the child with grace,
To return them to a parent's embrace,
To say I assisted children in need,
The door swung open with a mighty push,
florecent light swept across my eyes.
Franticly people shuffle around,
choatic thoughts and calm movements.
A loving place full of injury and sickness,
I've gone through everything.
Encouragement; Discouragement.
Praise; Ridicule.
Advice; Sabotage.
You name it, my art has felt it.
Then, an opportunity, a chance!
A risk, a gamble.
I was a woman drowning in my own tears, bound by the chains of my own depression.
No one around to listen to my story and be the ear to my painful confessions.
"What do you want to be when you grow up?"
"An artist," I innocently answered my parents at four years of age.
"What do you want to be in the future?"
Doctor's offices are not conducive to dreaming -
or hoping - the brown brick and clorox seem to block the angels out.
To know what Mengele's twins must have felt like,
Like a patient in front of medical students
