The Struggle

by Paul Raworth Bennett
in support of a good friend

Her shrink asks how is Bree
He merely wants to see
How well that she may be
So fudge the truth does she

I’m on my meds, she’ll say
And thus Doc’s fears allay
Since Doc has no X-ray
His trust she does betray

They sometimes will argue
Their chat gets in the glue
About what’s best to do
To stop Bree’s feeling blue

She hates these verbal drills
Those clashes of their wills
She’s certain that those pills
Dissolve her coping skills

She wishes Doc could see
Drug-free she longs to be
Her gut is telling Bree
She would be more carefree

They fill her mind with fog
And render life a slog
As if she’s hooked on grog
A bump upon a log

She just hates taking drugs
They’re pushed by pharma thugs
Turn patients into slugs
Their zest reduced to shrugs

And so they have a rift
And maybe Bree’s adrift
But drugs won’t her life lift
So them she gives short shrift

She can’t make up her mind
How to resolve this bind
She won’t live life confined
Pills rob her spirit blind

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