A series of poems by Beccah

"yes"

We were escorted into the juvenile room, sat down, told the doctor would be with us soon
When she entered , in all her glory, it was all business ,
They spoke about me,
my mother and her,
about what I was feeling and what I needed to make it go away
She spoke only to my mother, whom had to watch me break down in her arms before noticing any change
"I'm going to give her a higher dosage"
I felt the words echo there, bounce off me, and reverberate through the small room
They continued to talk as if I was not there
As if my small body was invisible
I looked away, began reading signs on the wall, anything but listen to them speak about what's wrong with my brain
My brain which I've nurtured and grown to the best of my ability
Their words were distant from me now as the spoke of what was best for my emotions
Finally, finally, she turned to me
"Is that okay with you"
I opened my mouth to speak and the word 'no' scratched my throat and got caught on my tongue "Yes" I said
And went back to reading the posters on the wall