We call them ‘meds’.
Informal –
like a friend.

For most of us, meds are old friends,
who we arrange to meet every day
(but miss a few
here and there)

Meds have personalities.

Some are daredevils, walking a tightrope ten feet up.
Making us sick to our stomachs.

Some are dull, going on and on and on…
Until we can’t keep our heavy eyelids open

And some absolutely love meeting for food.
Forcing us to eat and eat
(just to be polite).

But, sick tired and fat,
we hold on to that spark of hope
– try to kindle it.
Because maybe, just maybe
They’ll work this time.


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