Wasted by Darcey Ewing-Segers

The ugly blackbird came back
It survived
I did not pound it hard enough
It has come for me
Its talons are sharpened, ready to repay
And its yellow eyes are also sharp
It knew where to find me
Where I was
Where I am
Where I will be
No zooming through the sky this time
Just hovering above me
Like its tiny humming cousin
But no singing from this dark one
Although I do hear a dirge in the back of my mind
With lyrics I dare not mention
I am forced to stare at the scars I inflicted
And am shocked at the injured bird’s return
And the power it flaunts
I am confused as to how this bashed and beaten bird
Came back to life

And now I lie still
I have become carrion
So the bird takes its time
It has all
I have none
And it wings its way to my face
And pecks and punctures my eyes
Reaching in deep and pulling bloody pieces of brain from my head
Like worms from the earth
It eats its fill, taking back its blood
Then soars into the sky
Mocking my
And instability
Globs of white excrement fall from above
Landing in both of my eyes
My mind is mastered
Unfurled by a bird
And all I can do is weep waste


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Mad in America hosts blogs by a diverse group of writers. These posts are designed to serve as a public forum for a discussion—broadly speaking—of psychiatry and its treatments. The opinions expressed are the writers’ own.


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