Psychiatry is an atheist’s prayer, absolving the faithful of human desire
It is miracle cures, sinners who have lost their way, and a holy book written by instruments of the almighty
It is old white men in sports blazers, cross-legged in leather wingback chairs, casting out demons with prescription pads
and Eve and her hysteria, punished for knowing too much, baptized in serotonin
It is chemically-induced exorcisms, electric shocks in place of fire and brimstone
It is redemption stories of the broken, tamed at last by the good word of talk therapy and receptors subdued into submission
It is ivory towers, with pearly gates and streets of gold, damning those who cast doubt on the chemical gospel
and waging wars to protect its sacred scriptures
Psychiatry is an atheist’s prayer, its brilliance lost on the heretics- the mad and wicked- clinging to primitive ways
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