I was feeling like a fart
So I went to
A doctor, a therapist
And a psychiatrist
The whole nine yards.
Clinical depression
And bi-polar too/two
Who knows?
I guess they do, so why not abide,
With the medication junk they prescribe.
Now I think in poetry
And write rhymes that
Do not rhyme.
But my poor head is dizzy
Nearly all the time.
Cold turkey, better not
I just hope I can
Finish this book of poetry
Before I titrate off the junk.
And feel like a fart again.