#Depression
The strings that attach me To this world Ground me Yes they sometimes Keep me from flying
A family trait Massage Is our vice No shame Take what
Strong hands Hold me down To the bed I say to them I have to go
You must commit To an outfit Where are you going? In sporty yoga pants Athletic top
My grandfather told my father when he proposed to my mother on one condition
I look away Afraid to see Flicker of nerves In their eye A clench
Would I rather be A younger me? More productive Stronger Would i have to give up
I had it all In my head And then I said Words I do not know which ones
He says I could never Get away with murder For I leave Pieces of me everywhere
Don’t talk down to me I am not a child! Even children Deserve respect
Who am I? I am me When did I Become me? As I recall
Are you ever tired Of just being you? Did you ever Want to be Someone new?
Life is good A little luxury A cup of coffee Served with toast Consumed lazily
Clinical smells Polite strangers The only thing worse Than being here Is to not be able
An idea In my head Falls flat On paper Read it