For this week's writing exercise, Oz placed two pills on the table- one golden and semi-transparent (this she later revealed was cod liver oil)- one blue and yellow (apparently Prozac).
These were our prompts. I wrote this:
The man lurches over, I think the fella's ill
In his clammy hand there's a blue and yellow pill
He must rise above this- he feels, no, he knows that
He lifts himself up and thinks about the Prozac
Do I really need this? He thinks to himself
Should I move this pill from the sink to the shelf?
He spreads his curtains wider, taking in the UV
He says to the pill, now there's only you and me
He thinks of the woman that he hasn't seen for years
And the things he could have had if he didn't feel these fears
Why would a pill stop him feeling all these sorrows?
But he feels a slight thrill as he pops it in and swallows...
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