Mental illness: myname

Mental illness is my name.
Diagnosed by many doctors,
They whisper, “it’s just a game.”

Strapped down on a bed,
so you can put me in my place.
I am slipping through fingers
with tears falling off my face.
I am categorized into levels,
so medicine can be put in my veins.
Yet, I memorize and visualize,
much like the sound of falling rain.

Take another look at me
and really know my face.
Then look me in the eyes
so I can begin to end the ache.

I have fear, I have pain.
I have numbness in my brain.
I have dreams, I have passion.
I have love underneath the shame.
I am normal, I am crazy.
I am somewhere in-between.
I am dark, I am light.
I am opaque like the ocean sea.
I have color, I have warmth.
I still have my pride and dignity.

Do you see my mental illness?
Or am I just words upon a page.
I am full of emotion if you’d only learn to wait.
Meanwhile, I sit in a corner close to Heaven’s Gate.

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