those aren't cicadas you're hearing

it's the snaps of synapse

dreary, I know

take heart, it will pass

each time I turn my head

they whisper, haunting

I remind myself

of the warnings

these are not happy pills

they make you ill

they take their time

so you don’t take your life

they don’t heal you

they protect the men and women

who’d have to scrape your mind

from sidewalks and fields

it’s not cicadas you’re hearing

it’s impulse slowed

it’s the scream rewired

it’s therapy to help you forget

but I can’t forget

I won’t forget

the cicadas