Image by Hanna Bechtle
talking to himself
came into the pharmacy.
The old women in there, didn't know who he was
but I did
and the chemist and staff did too.
The chemist rushed out with a small plastic cup
and gave him his methadone shot.
They didn't want him hanging about
with all the normal people there for too long.
He knew who I was too
only I didn't look different like him.
We were the same in a way
carrying around our own pain.
You can smell it from people
the ones that aren't normal
but you can never know another man's pain
he has to live that
all by himself.