Medication Can’t Help Me

Medication can’t help me,
Because I’ve mastered the art of dissociation,

And I’m always making mistakes,
So I’m always dissociating,

Like yesterday, for example,
Despite all of the ruminating,
And standing still,
I got to the important doctor appointment,
And got more of the Sertraline,
Just before it ran out,

But whilst there,
I was told,
That I’d missed an important phone call,
In the morning,
I can’t go there anymore,
Because I’ve moved address,
I should have re-registered,

Doing one thing right,
Means I do another thing wrong,
I can never win,

On Monday,
I saw a counsellor through a charity,
Which was good,
But it’s going to take me hours to explain my complex story,

I made another appointment for Friday,
But I’ve just realised,
This means I can’t go to Depression Expression,
Where I was making friends,

That’s two mistakes in one:
I forgot to check my calendar before agreeing,
I prevented myself from going to a useful thing which I usually go to,
And anyway,

I’ve ran out of money,
So I can’t afford to park,

I spent so much on parking,
Just to get the council room,
Back and forth,
Back and forth,

My life is a constant stream of being told that I’ve made mistakes,
Despite the anxiety,
This is the one thing that I should do,
That I should have done,
When I’m trying not to ruminate here,

Everybody wants priority,
Nobody sees the full picture,
I never get a chance to breathe,
And allow the medication to help.

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