and hates the evil villain who came to take the throne.
Well, I am the hated.
I came to take the throne.
How could they say it belonged to you
when they didn’t see how far my arrow could shoot?
Mine does tricks in the air while it glides;
survives under pressure
and if it hits you the butterfly stitches won’t do.
I kept it locked up in its case in a basement for so long;
shame on me.
They say psychological pain induces
the same nerves as physical pain and
I guess that’s why I took to bed rest.
They didn’t even have to prescribe it for me,
for I had already done it myself. Originally, hospice was
far worse than I had prepared myself for.
I walked to the cemetery, laid down in the ground
and closed the casket shut. Everyday
I’d move myself towards that sixth psychological foot.
Unluckily for you, one day I just woke up.
No longer comatose, I looked up and saw people
standing above me
making jokes so funny, I had to change
my back-to-the-earth position to let out a belly laugh.
So I sat up. My joints took a breath
and I thrived again.
So this is for anyone who has declared him or herself ready
for psychological hospice.
Those thrones belong to you.
They are waiting for you.
Don't succumb to your own prescriptions.
Brionna Ketter is a senior at the Pennsylvania State University studying Psychology. She has a strong interest in PR and Journalism. She is driven by creative thoughts that don’t allow her to sleep at night. She lost her mom to liver failure at the age of 11 and her grandmother 6 years later. She is now learning to shape her life around those two difficult events. She hopes writing will help her do that.