When words-
Fail us..
Where do "they"
Expect us-
To turn?
"Oh,
there's medicine-
for that."
They say.
As if this-
Is a..
Disease.
That they can-
Destroy..
Cure..
Hide..
Avoid..
As if this-
Isn't real.
But they don't understand-
That this disease-
Is a part of us.
Hell.
It is us.
And it's very..
Real.
So.
We write.
We draw.
We scream.
We run.
We cry.
We laugh.
We hide.
We fake.
We cut.
We lie.
We sing.
And we keep it all-
Inside.
Do they really think-
Medicine-
Can change how-
A person thinks..
And copes..
And sees him/herself..
All at once?
Or at all?
They just don't-
Understand.
Maybe I'm-
Bitter.
And maybe I-
Don't quite..
Know why.
But really.
What can we do-
If there's just nothing-
To do?
Because sometimes..
It takes more-
Than a pill-
To fix-
The "problem."
Because sometimes..
We-
Are the problem.
YOU ARE READING
The Words of a Person
PoetryMy words. Typed. As if- They could ever be called- Neat. *WARNING* Life is fucked up- So I guess I am too.