Tim Bone

ONE LAST PILL

I take myself off pill by pill
The pain returns they used to kill
Roaring through my weakened state
I see ahead what is my fate

I suffer from direct effect
Of ruined parts that war has wrecked
Conditions which cannot reverse
I feel them growing worse and worse

Yet still I taper off the Med
I choose to feel what’s real instead
All quality of life will go
I hoped for better, now I know

There has been one who’s constantly
Tried hard to help, but I can see
The strain upon their face that shows
I won’t let this nightmare impose

Some Meds that treat P.T.S.D.
Don’t work, but I get them for free
Yet when it comes to raging pain
I ask for help, I get disdain

I walked through every chemical
They sprayed on every jungle hill
Now I am tired of attitudes
That asking for relief includes

I could go on the way I have
And cut the pain about in half
But even that’s too much to ask
And I won’t turn back to the flask

I had to know and now I do
What to expect that I’ll go through
But there remains one pill I keep
It’s made of lead and brings on sleep