Zombies

Of a morning one of them comes into my room and hands me the Clozapine in a small paper cup.

At noon they call me to lunch where they hand me the Risperidone, also in a small paper cup.

In the evening, when the darkness returns, they give me a new paper cup with new pills inside.

They will not tell me what the red and blue pills are.

Sometimes they don't catch me when I hid the pills under my tongue.

Later, in the early hours of morning, I cry.

Zombies can't cry, or laugh, or smile, or feel.