July 23, 2017

If I leave my bed,
I’m responsible for
filling my day with
responsible things:
cooking, cleaning, exercise,
looking like someone
not hurting inside,
not wanting to hide
in my shell of lost pride,
but I have no choice,
I can’t decide to just
lay here as a husk of myself,
pop a pill, chemicals on that shelf,
fix the ones in your brain,
after eons of pain
that you haven’t been able
to sift through on your own,
it’s okay,
pop that pill,
feel less alone,
take the edge off the sleeve
where your exposed heart is shown,
move your legs, one-by-one,
make some coffee and sip it,
slowly, so slowly
while your mind does convincing
that today is the day
you won’t hide away,
you’ll do normal things,
pretend to feel the same,
a sense of accomplishment,
you defeated its waves,
’til it comes back tomorrow,
where the cycle remains.
Emily ©