I would like to believe I’m “cured”
depression over
equilibrium found.
But I suspect this is not quite true
because I can feel it
beneath the surface
biding its time
waiting for an opening.
And although I have made much progress
my day-to-day happiness
may depend greatly
on the modern pharmacy.
My new confidence might be born
of conquering fears
and healing wounds
But my heart reminds me
of the pill bottle
waiting for me
by the bathroom sink.