Tiny White Pills

Tiny white pills in the palm of my hand
My most treasured gift, my life
its fate,
in the palm of my hand
So tiny
yet so large in consequence
So light
Yet so heavy in implication
In the flick of a wrist I could have
finished this
All this pain
All these questions
All the nights spent
crying myself to sleep
I could just sleep
No more pain
No more
No
No more sunsets
No more music
No more sweet sounds of laughter
from children
from myself
No more shabbos candles
No more hands to hold
Tears to wipe
Poetry bold
No more, means,
No more
And I want so much more
Give me more sunsets
more beauty, more love
Give me more music that reaches my soul
Give me more glimpses
into that soul
I’m still waiting for my other half
I’m still waiting for the sparks that I can
bring into this world
I’m still waiting
So I cannot escape the pain
I cannot go to sleep
I must awaken to the idea that the pain
is a well intentioned weather man
Predicting Gd as best he can

Give me more
More patience
More time
More
Put down the tiny white pills
and pick up
the pieces
You have more work to do.

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