Surgeon General’s Warning

By Kelly Grace Thomas


Alice almost drown in her own tears

because she chose the wrong bottle.

I sit amongst the labels of life,

heartache, wonder, guilt, inspiration,

not knowing when to take a sip.

I can’t smell the difference between

purity and poison.

Panting and screaming till I’m lead to the river

to swim with the flowers,

or cut off, asked to leave with a blank stare.

They both feel the same. 

I wish I knew the effect you would have had,

before I took a sip.