Fifty milligrams before bedtime every night
I am not allowed to say, “Nay”
Drift off to sleep, feel alive in the morning
Go to work with anger a-flowing
That’s my friend, Seroquel.
The doctor said, “It will help with your mood.
Zoloft was not right for you.”
I become an angel in the night
Then I turn into a demon in the day
Thanks to Seroquel.
Loathe people, ignore their voices
Disregard their advice, follow your choices
Open your eyes, greet the sun with hatred
Clench your teeth, should they dare to tread
Drastic changes in my chemical make up were made
I wanted the side effects to fade
No more, I said, but they ignored my plead
Twenty-five milligrams before bedtime, then see what happens
Sleep was still the same, but the anger wasn’t there
I slept like a god in the last two nights
I was meek as sheep in the last two days
I did well lately, emotionally and mentally
Thank you, Seroquel.
And today, I awoke
Like dawn, my feeling of loathing broke
Fifty did not do it, neither did twenty-five
I am exhausted, I probably should just die
What the hell, I thought you were my friend, Seroquel?
Sarah is an NYC professional by day, a writer by night. She writes horror and tragic stories, and sometimes, about past lives. Recently, she tried dabbling into poetry. You can email her at firstname.lastname@example.org and you can check out her short stories at sorenlysander.wordpress.com.