I’m trying to find my way
through this obscuring fog,
a thick veil called psychosis.
Navigating unmedicated
is near impossible.
Being off an anti-psychotic
itself is insanity!
I was off onto this foggy path,
a path with an uncertain end.
Now, medicated, that dreaded veil lifts,
and everything clears,
the foliage becomes colorful again.
I can see the end,
though distant, very distant,
my life again has purpose!
The inky tear wells
have again replenished,
and I cry joyousness onto the page.
My hand and pen
again dance together,
as words again flow like a river.
And now, I can sleep soundly,
awake without jolting,
and be fresh alive everyday.
And in this one and only life,
I can recognize the man I am,
as a man, now pieced together.
