G.P

The doctor handed me
A strange coloured pill,
He told me I was terribly ill,
As ill as can be
For a woman, who refuses to see.
I swallowed the first
And hesitated with the last.
My past, the doctor said,
Was my worst enemy.
I noticed as the pills washed
Into my mind,
That time hadn’t moved,
Not for a day at least.
When I asked the doctor,
He told me to concentrate
And took the clock away from
My
View.
White walls, they are strange.
I stared at them
As the doctor made notes
All over my body.
I began to think I was no
Longer a patient but his hobby.
The final stage of treatment had ended,
I shook the doctors hand
And made my way to the door…
He smiled.
O doctor, let me go!

O no my girl, this is only the start of the show.

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