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The stifling air weighs down upon me.

Like a caged bird, with bruised wings, unable to be free.

This disease has me under lock and key.

Wanting to escape I gasp to breathe.



Bound by a stigmatized word that follows me around,

And psychobabble stating I’m not sane or sound.

Chains of sadness keep me bound.

Like the ghost of past hovering above ground.



Crying, and then ceasing the act for all.

Dried tears, no emotions, no spring, no fall.

I scream silently but no one hears the call.

They treat me like I’m fragile, or a pale porcelain doll.



Self medication, the quickest fix.

Zoloft, Prozac, Paxil or maybe a mix.

To hide my pain I know all the tricks.

A pseudo smile I’ve learned to affix.



God why me? Why must I know,

What it feels like to live in the painful shadows

Of memories and times of constant woes?

And to never know bliss, but be intimate with lows.



Did I inherit these damaged genes?

Or am I drawn towards what’s obscene?

Like, the first spring rain, I want to be clean.

To fill whole again, with my soul redeemed.



Instead my days bleed into one.

No rest for the weary, no breeze to alleviate the scorching sun.

Always pretending, always on the run,

Instead of the alternative, which is staring down the barrel of a gun.



I’ll be imprisoned in this constant sorrow.

No hope for an optimistic tomorrow.

I live on time that’s not mine, it’s borrowed.

An echo of past on the verge of morrow.



Will I ever know the joy of rain on my face?

Or am I forever banned from a healthy place?

Am I not whole? Am I a disgrace?

Because I need help, because I need space?



You criticize, but take no blame.

My disease has your DNA, it has your name.

I’m from your womb, we are the same.

At least I acknowledge I’m not in the right frame.



I’m damaged, my mind, my spirit, and my soul.

But I’ve done my time, I’ve paid my toll.

When will you realize you’re not whole?

When it’s too late and clocks re-own the time you stole?



Mommy, can’t you see?

That we’re sick, you and me.

And I’ll never be what you’re proud of, or what you need.

I’ll never feel your love, this I believe.



So for now I’ll go on living alone,

With a disease and a heart of stone.

God save me because I am prone

To ending my own misery with my sins un-atoned.



One more thing I have to say,

Get help mom, you’ll thank me one day.

And realize there are no winners and the games you and I play.

The real loser was my childhood you stripped away.

And I remember the keen scars that will forever stay

To end our legacy is the price I’ll pay,

And I’ll carry our disease into the cold ground, where I’ll lay.