My Voice Through Poetry

Polar 👊

And the hospital says...
In the past 24 hours, have you felt blue?
In the past 24 hours, have you cried?
In the past 24 hours, have your sleep patterns been disrupted?
In the past 24 hours, have you stopped smiling?
In the past 24 hours, have you felt guilty about little mistakes?
In the past 24 hours, have you had harsh thoughts about your physical appearance?
In the past 24 hours, have you felt like you don't belong?
In the past 24 hours, have you experienced anything bad?

And They say...
"To that little bit of sadness, you need to say, 'bye'
Because pretty people really don't cry.
You sleep just fine,
And the smile on your face shines.
Pretty people don't make mistakes, kay?
You could lose a few pounds, but you won't be perfect anyway.
You know, you really need to stop being dramatic.
You haven't experienced anything traumatic!"

And I say...
You know what?
No, I'm not sad. My depression cuts at my skin like barbed wire.
I don't cry. I sob until my eyes feel like fire.
I don't sleep. I stare at my blank wall like I'm in a psych ward.
And I don't stop smiling because I'm afraid people will get bored.
My minuscule mistakes eat me from the inside.
I hate my body. I have absolutely no pride.
Everywhere I go, people are whisper and stare.
And my PTSD makes me feel like nobody's there.

I don't need a reason to feel sad.
Yes, some days it's because of my dad,
Other days it's because of everything inside my head.
I need all the sanity I can get. Every bit, every shred.