I look for a bottle, a small one.
After a lot of thought and quite some searching,
a pretty glass jar with a cork was found.
Tiny enough to fit in the palm of my hand, unseen
Delicate and strong, or fragile and young,
it depends on how you see it, really.
I go to the cabinet now – holding the secrets of life
in small tiny pills, some colourful and some white.
With all my raw materials I shall now sit,
creating a potpourri of pills.
I soon hold the jar, transformed and full
Each tablet unique and with purpose.
And as I finish my project, I’m calm, finally calm
My anxieties kept busy and distracted.
It’s so easy to trick the human mind
into believing a future (the irony),
with our present actions.
I close my eyes and savour
The blank emptiness that could be mine
Before I get up and walk away,
Stepping on glass, still a prisoner to time.
-the positivity of black