by Laura H.
Summary: A bit of a look into Murdock's head as he 'gets help' at the VA
Warning: Gets semi-dark, but nothing too upsetting
Characters: inspired by/for/of Murdock
Disclaimer: The characters of the "A-Team", sadly, do not belong to me. I
am not now, nor shall I ever, make any money by using them in fiction or
A/N: This is written as a poem, though there is no rhyme scheme and the form
is a bit strange. But, that's how it came out. Any and all feedback, good
or bad, is greatly welcomed and appreciated. Enjoy!
You always say that.
You say I'm sick,
I need help.
What if I don't agree, eh doc?
What if I'm tired of hearing you say the same things?
What if I don't want your help?
Why am I the crazy one?
Why can't I be right?
Just because I'm the only one to see things this way...
Does majority rule reality, too?
Why do you say I'm sick?
Is it because I'm not like you?
You, with your stale white jackets,
You, with your soft words and hard hands.
I thought people were supposed to be unique...
Just because you can't hear the voices,
Does that mean they don't exist?
Why do you have to tie me up?
They tied Joan of Arc up...
She heard voices, too.
I hope no one has a match.
Ah, here comes the needle.
The needle that makes me forget, lose time.
I don't like the needle.
How do you expect me to face reality
If you keep putting me to sleep?
A sharp prick as the needle goes in,
And I feel the drug spread.
It feels like a cold fire in my veins.
Cold fire? Maybe I am crazy...
'Relax,' you say.
'Don't struggle or fight'.
Like I could now, if I wanted to.
'Relax, go to sleep.
Everything will be alright.'
You always say that, too.