Biploar Disorder in Iambic Pentameter

Restrict my creativity it does
This medicine a poet's nightmare be
For my depression I consume the dose
And wait 'til inspiration come to me
But nothing comes, because of little pills
My doctors say they are for my own health
And yes, they do restrict my worst of ills
And cost comparatively little wealth
But still the poet's yearning do I feel
To write and be admired I do now lust
And if the price to pay is not to heal
I shall into a great fire my pills thrust
Now I relax for rhymes more slowly come
Now I enjoy the quiet of this home

The author is a junior from New Jersey majoring in political science. This is his second published poem.