Do people like to make a show
out of my mental health?
That the only time I am somewhat
interesting to you is when I am
screaming and crying and grasping
my hair with my hands, yet what no
one sees how it was you who provoked
me over and over again until I couldn't
take it.
I was sane, and I still am.
But these fears—I am finding
a sense of understanding and community
that my community, the places I come from
may forever brand me as the one who lost
their mind, and they ship me off
to a hospital that I'll never leave,
a forever coma but I am wide awake,
and quite sensible and aware,
and I know. It seems like an unreasonable
fear nowadays.
But I am terribly afraid of being locked away
unjustly and for forever, and the person who
locked me away tells the world that I have lost
my mind, but in secret, they know that nothing
is wrong with me. That I am imprisoned because
I found out the truth.
YOU ARE READING
THE ARSONIST
Poetry"You set my world on fire, but at what cost?" In THE ARSONIST, this prose-poetry chapbook explores third degree burns, stone faced lovers, and learning to love the blackened trees. New poems released every Thursday at 9PM MST/11PM EST.
