Underlying metaphor of anger: I don't actually take medication.

I am a slave to it.
Pop the pills daily
Once
Twice
Be careful
An overdose can kill
Wash them down
With a fiery concoction
That leaves me exhausted
Even as the effects
Kick in

As my eyelids burn
With my own scorching gaze,
It's all I can do:
Try and keep moving
One step
Two steps ahead
Can't fall
Behind
But each foot feels like lead
Encumbered and frustrated,
I move at a snail's pace
In my own furious dance
As my feet burn.

This drug is powerful;
Holds me in its grip
All fucking day.
Until I beg for mercy
And tearfully
Slip into oblivion
As I crash
Each and every night
Only to awake
And repeat
The endless cycle.

I'm lost in my addiction.
Under lock and key
And then some.
Can't get up,
Can't get through my day without
My lovely little pills.
I hate it.
And all these damned side effects.
But the withdrawal symptoms
Would be unbearable.
(If I knew what they were)
So I just keep running ahead
One step
Two steps ahead.
Perhaps someday
I'll run out of sight
And drop these red pills,
One by one
Into a chilly stream
And watch their anger
Melt away.

Sadly,
The thing that keeps me going
Is one thing that will kill me
In the end.
My lovely little pills
Full of anger and spite
What would I do without you.
God I wish I knew.