Stitch This

I look for a silver spoon

To help the medicine go down 

The bitter taste sticks around

And reminds me that 

Life is not all sugar

It’s not so sweet at times.

But then, sugar isn’t really sweet

A history stained with tyranny and tears. 

Shielded by marketing and greed

But it fixes the rancid flavor of illness

Of incapacity

Of sloth.

The rotting smell of disappointment

Exhaustion 

And fear.

The spoon ladles out the syrup

Sticky, strong and thick. 

And drops it, streaming over the cracks 

Covering them fro a moment 

But not for ever.