deepundergroundpoetry.com
Take the Pill
Take the pill.
Take the pill.
Take the pill.
Take the pill.
No, you don't need the pills-- Like I don't need pills.
We don't need pills.
We're happy being who we are.
We don't need to shut out even the tiniest part of ourselves.
We don't need to make other people happy, especially if we're happy the way we are.
Right?
Right my love?
Why are you staring so blankly into space like that?
I'm holding your hand love, can't you feel it?
I give your hand a squeeze and you say that everything hurts.
You say that you have a headache.
I ask you to take something for it to make you feel better.
But you can't.
You say you started your meds today.
But you were fine the way you were. . .
So what if you can't focus.
And you look at your trading cards when you're suppose to be reading my story.
That's who you are.
When you're playing a video game and you rather look at the lamp in the game then continue going the way the Little Sister is pointing you.
I love those things about you.
Those adorable quirks, because they are who you are.
I don't want you to be a zombie.
I don't want you to stifle your energy.
So that you're tired when you get out of school.
Or you're wide awake all night because all that energy's been bottled up all day.
That's not you.
You blame your headache and pain on a flu shot.
But you've already been sick this winter my love, and you're not like most people that get sick very easily.
I give your hand a squeeze, begging for you to give me the attention that I have grown use to obtaining.
Does that sound selfish?
Maybe a little twisted?
No... I can't have you ignoring me, I can't go back to that time in my life when I stepped aside and was ignored until the person I loved was up for giving me attention.
I won't be shoved aside this time.
Look at me and love me!
You say that we shouldn't cuddle today because-- No stop!
You're not getting the flu.
And even if you were, since when has that stopped us before?
Stopped you from kissing me, even if it was on the cheek or the forehead?
Do not give me that bullshit that we can't cuddle because you might be sick!
You're fine and even if you were sick.
That wouldn't stop me from being held by you.
Or you holding me.
I long for your touch everyday.
Yes I'm clingy but you love that about me.
Just like I love everything about you.
But at that moment standing in the store across from my therapist's office, holding a bottle of water and staring at the candy handing there in bags on little hooks. I wasn't your girlfriend, I wasn't pregnant-- I wasn't me, the me I am now.
I was Her's again.
No she's not hear to read this poem.
And this isn't a stab at her directly.
If she were to read it though she would be offended.
Because when you pushed me away, staring off into space not noticing me as I held your hand.
As I felt my breathing getting faster, and I felt my heart pounding. Panic took over, flight or fight kicked in. Who was I? Where am I? This isn't the hand of the one I love.
What did you do with him?
I don't want to be back there.
Standing on the sidelines waiting to be loved.
To be given permission to be held or to hold.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO!
"Annie are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
My voice cracked, I heard it crack-- There's tears in my voice, I'm making you feel bad my love. I'm sorry I don't know what's wrong with me. . . I'm not here. I'm there again, and She's staring out the window pretending to have a flashback from a disturbed past that She never had. I sitting next to Her, wanting and praying and wishing for Her to be happy. She's leaving me alone with the sense of dread that She's going to go home and Her parents are going to yell at Her, and She's going to be sad-- She's always sad, never happy-- Even when She's with me. She's never happy, She doesn't know how to be happy. She's going to be sad, She's going to have flashbacks. She thinks she was raped or molested or she's not only one but eleven other people.
She doesn't like to cuddle, she inherited that trait for her dad.
She's bipolar she inherited that from her dad.
She doesn't like public affection, I'll stand on the sidelines until She's done hugging all her friends.
She needs to take pill too, did you know that?
Because she was in love with me, she obviously had a chemical imbalance in her brain-- There's pills to fix that you know.
Make her stop loving me.
Make her act normal.
Make her perfect.
Even though I thought that she was perfect.
She was perfect to me even when she was hurting me.
She was perfect to me even when she was lying to me.
She was perfect to me even when she was pretending to be someone else.
Even when she was "hallucinating" me as someone else.
Even when she choked me.
Even when she threatened me.
Up until that final moment when I laid next to her in my bed and that coldness encased my heart in a prison that took you months to melt away.
Like it took you months to heal these scars on my arms.
Like it took me all this time to stop hating myself and Her, and myself, and Her again.
"Annie are you okay?"
I look up, we're in the hallway outside my therapist's office. You're standing in front of me, holding my shoulders. You're not Her, you're you-- You're my love. My penguin, my boyfriend, my hero. The father of my baby, the soul mate that I have waited for.
I want to tell you, I want you to understand.
"Don't drift away from me. . ."
"WHAT?!"
"Your meds... You seem faraway, and it reminds me of--" I look away from you for a moment and then back, "I felt like I was with Her again."
"That won't happen Annie, I don't act like that on my meds."
"You can't know that for a fact."
"Yes I can-- If it gets worse I'll stop, how's that sound?"
I look up you, I try to look past the glazed over look in your eyes. I want to see you again, tears slide down my cheeks.
"I love you" I say and then I hug you tightly.
I am free from Her wrath.
I know this.
I am not the girl she controlled with tears and pretty lies.
I am the girl that you hold.
The one that doesn't need to cut to feel alive.
The one that holds a life inside of her for one more month.
I know you are not her.
And that you will never be like Her in anyway.
I just get scared...
The idea of you changing who you are scares me.
Especially when I love who you really are.
And I don't care if you have an attention problem.
It's part of who you are.
And that the you I love.
Don't take the pill.
Don't take the pill.
Don't take the pill.
Don't take the pill.
Please, for me.
Don't take it, and never change my love.
Take the pill.
Take the pill.
Take the pill.
No, you don't need the pills-- Like I don't need pills.
We don't need pills.
We're happy being who we are.
We don't need to shut out even the tiniest part of ourselves.
We don't need to make other people happy, especially if we're happy the way we are.
Right?
Right my love?
Why are you staring so blankly into space like that?
I'm holding your hand love, can't you feel it?
I give your hand a squeeze and you say that everything hurts.
You say that you have a headache.
I ask you to take something for it to make you feel better.
But you can't.
You say you started your meds today.
But you were fine the way you were. . .
So what if you can't focus.
And you look at your trading cards when you're suppose to be reading my story.
That's who you are.
When you're playing a video game and you rather look at the lamp in the game then continue going the way the Little Sister is pointing you.
I love those things about you.
Those adorable quirks, because they are who you are.
I don't want you to be a zombie.
I don't want you to stifle your energy.
So that you're tired when you get out of school.
Or you're wide awake all night because all that energy's been bottled up all day.
That's not you.
You blame your headache and pain on a flu shot.
But you've already been sick this winter my love, and you're not like most people that get sick very easily.
I give your hand a squeeze, begging for you to give me the attention that I have grown use to obtaining.
Does that sound selfish?
Maybe a little twisted?
No... I can't have you ignoring me, I can't go back to that time in my life when I stepped aside and was ignored until the person I loved was up for giving me attention.
I won't be shoved aside this time.
Look at me and love me!
You say that we shouldn't cuddle today because-- No stop!
You're not getting the flu.
And even if you were, since when has that stopped us before?
Stopped you from kissing me, even if it was on the cheek or the forehead?
Do not give me that bullshit that we can't cuddle because you might be sick!
You're fine and even if you were sick.
That wouldn't stop me from being held by you.
Or you holding me.
I long for your touch everyday.
Yes I'm clingy but you love that about me.
Just like I love everything about you.
But at that moment standing in the store across from my therapist's office, holding a bottle of water and staring at the candy handing there in bags on little hooks. I wasn't your girlfriend, I wasn't pregnant-- I wasn't me, the me I am now.
I was Her's again.
No she's not hear to read this poem.
And this isn't a stab at her directly.
If she were to read it though she would be offended.
Because when you pushed me away, staring off into space not noticing me as I held your hand.
As I felt my breathing getting faster, and I felt my heart pounding. Panic took over, flight or fight kicked in. Who was I? Where am I? This isn't the hand of the one I love.
What did you do with him?
I don't want to be back there.
Standing on the sidelines waiting to be loved.
To be given permission to be held or to hold.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO!
"Annie are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
My voice cracked, I heard it crack-- There's tears in my voice, I'm making you feel bad my love. I'm sorry I don't know what's wrong with me. . . I'm not here. I'm there again, and She's staring out the window pretending to have a flashback from a disturbed past that She never had. I sitting next to Her, wanting and praying and wishing for Her to be happy. She's leaving me alone with the sense of dread that She's going to go home and Her parents are going to yell at Her, and She's going to be sad-- She's always sad, never happy-- Even when She's with me. She's never happy, She doesn't know how to be happy. She's going to be sad, She's going to have flashbacks. She thinks she was raped or molested or she's not only one but eleven other people.
She doesn't like to cuddle, she inherited that trait for her dad.
She's bipolar she inherited that from her dad.
She doesn't like public affection, I'll stand on the sidelines until She's done hugging all her friends.
She needs to take pill too, did you know that?
Because she was in love with me, she obviously had a chemical imbalance in her brain-- There's pills to fix that you know.
Make her stop loving me.
Make her act normal.
Make her perfect.
Even though I thought that she was perfect.
She was perfect to me even when she was hurting me.
She was perfect to me even when she was lying to me.
She was perfect to me even when she was pretending to be someone else.
Even when she was "hallucinating" me as someone else.
Even when she choked me.
Even when she threatened me.
Up until that final moment when I laid next to her in my bed and that coldness encased my heart in a prison that took you months to melt away.
Like it took you months to heal these scars on my arms.
Like it took me all this time to stop hating myself and Her, and myself, and Her again.
"Annie are you okay?"
I look up, we're in the hallway outside my therapist's office. You're standing in front of me, holding my shoulders. You're not Her, you're you-- You're my love. My penguin, my boyfriend, my hero. The father of my baby, the soul mate that I have waited for.
I want to tell you, I want you to understand.
"Don't drift away from me. . ."
"WHAT?!"
"Your meds... You seem faraway, and it reminds me of--" I look away from you for a moment and then back, "I felt like I was with Her again."
"That won't happen Annie, I don't act like that on my meds."
"You can't know that for a fact."
"Yes I can-- If it gets worse I'll stop, how's that sound?"
I look up you, I try to look past the glazed over look in your eyes. I want to see you again, tears slide down my cheeks.
"I love you" I say and then I hug you tightly.
I am free from Her wrath.
I know this.
I am not the girl she controlled with tears and pretty lies.
I am the girl that you hold.
The one that doesn't need to cut to feel alive.
The one that holds a life inside of her for one more month.
I know you are not her.
And that you will never be like Her in anyway.
I just get scared...
The idea of you changing who you are scares me.
Especially when I love who you really are.
And I don't care if you have an attention problem.
It's part of who you are.
And that the you I love.
Don't take the pill.
Don't take the pill.
Don't take the pill.
Don't take the pill.
Please, for me.
Don't take it, and never change my love.
Published 19th Dec 2012
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19th Dec 2012 4:16pm
18th Jun 2014 8:06pm
