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.