Acceptance (a poem)

It’s a bitter pill to swallow

Actually there are twelve of them

And prescription bottles litter the counter

And it’s embedded in your fingerprints

Interwoven in your hair

It’s not who you are

But it’s a scar

It’s there

And you’ll always be like this

Etched upon your soul

A scribble on the prescription pad

Don’t you see?

There is more to me

Than bipolar

And OCD

“Lifelong illness” becomes a funeral march

But only if you let it

Take a drink

It’s a bitter pill to swallow