A Helping Hand

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A Helping Hand

A Helping Hand: A Poem by Michael S.

My ego sets my blood to boil, I reach the edge so hard to toil.

I truly can’t, not all alone, such times do tend to cut to bone.

“I don’t need help…” so foolish the lie, when it’s a simple “thanks”, rather than to die.

What madness to think I walk unaided, and it is there, when my soul is faded.

I loathe to ask, it feels like failure. Such masochistic tripe to be sure.

Teamwork is fine when I lend my aid, god forbid accepts the same in trade.

I am learning now, after so much hell, it’s okay to ask, that all be well.

It beats a breakdown, depression, death, to ask for a break, to catch my breath.

My soul knows it’s about all of us, my ego simply makes a fuss.

Family and friends are there for me, humbleness at that will set me free.

It’s okay to lean on someone upright, who loves you so when things aren’t right.

It’s how life works, that’s how it goes. Those curveballs are just what life throws.


This is a second poem that I have written about ketamine therapy and what the experience was like during a maintenance infusion. The therapy continues to help with my depression and anxiety. It also helps to express and process my emotions.


Michael S. is a patient at Colorado