Sacrifice

Last night
I nearly bowed the knee
I nearly traded in my passion for Prozac
Bought productivity with poetry

Last night
I nearly followed the doctor's orders
I nearly gave my broken heart for happiness
Fingers poised on thin steel borders

Last night
I nearly committed suicide in the name of prevention
I nearly gave in to a life of collaboration
With a lotus of innocent gelatin

Last night
When the pain began to warp my mind
When the anxiety started to choke me senseless
I nearly sold my soul for serotonin

This night
The familiar storms will come and go
The banks will flood and consume everything
The winds will howl through the branches
The church bells will ring wildly in perverse prayer
I will board up the windows and doors
Turn on the light for embattled sailors
And I will enjoy the storm
As _______ ________ Jamal.

I wrote this about the decison many people in psychiatric treatment face - there are side effects of common antidepressants that some may be unwilling to experience, and one of them is a dip in creativity. What happens when, to you, your very existence happens to be defined by your creative spirit?

This is an admittedly negative depiction but it's intended to express worries about medical treatment, and worries are by definition negative. There are many positives to antidepressants, most outweigh the negatives and this is in no way meant as medical advice.

I think I wrote this listening to Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen, or maybe the cover by Jeff Buckley.