The pills made her see clearly, so she said
A break from depression
Pathway to sanity, or perhaps a gateway to insanity
An admission of an inability to cope
Sad really, but seemingly necessary
Her way out of the mess she’d created
Unable to live with decisions she once thought perfect
Rarely finding solace in the right of this wrong

One or two a day, who knows
Lifting a fog that had smothered her intentions
Knowing it would be difficult, swallowing with pride
Her sickness was her love, her love, her downfall
Sticking with principles in a life where principles rarely mattered
Hoping for a brighter future, full deserved
Her burden, discarded, just like the others before
The pills, savior or not, she would never know