she's crying in the porcelin sink
her feet curled up under her against the cold cold whiteness
and tears are dripping down like little raindrops
and there's lithium in a plastic RX bottle
and it's floating in the toilet
name face-up on the soaked label in those chilly black block letters
'for her highness the crazed'

if you don't think it's a disease
why do you pay for her drugs?