The world needs more depressing poetry

White pills come from light blue bottles–

Yellow pills from orange ones, but

I don’t care about the color

If the color doesn’t care about me.

Things like these, from laboratories

Claim they’ll make me want to live, but

I’m not going to Fool myself–yet–

When I know myself a smudge too well.

Never heard a useful word from

Anything that tries too hard, but

“Swallow this, and before you know it

All your sadness will turn to smoke!”

Jerk the leash; pretend it worked, a

Miracle of Science, but

Hate yourself a little more for

Reasons that you can’t tell anyone.

Now that I’m society’s Fool, you’ll

Hear me writing dreary verse, but

If you see my sad decay: there’s

Nobody there, and nothing here.