written by: JANENE JORDAN
I’m the awkwardness that fills the room
When death is mentioned, the fear, the gloom,
I’m the look of pity upon their face, I’m the outcast from the human race.
I’m the pills you swallow, no “one for all”,
Blue ones to fly and pink ones to fall.
I’m the stench of bodies that lie unwashed.
I’m the nightmares of all your dreams I’ve squashed.
I’ll steal your family, I’ll reject your friends.
I have a beginning but you’ll see no end.
I’m the stigma hung around your neck,
So easy are the lives I wreck.
I’m the vomit when you won’t eat.
I’m the awkward looks down to their feet.
I’m the scars you try to hide.
I’m the thoughts you wish you’d died.
I’m the house you won’t stop cleaning,
“Touch taps 3 times” I know its meaning.
I’m the voice inside your head,
That whispers “you’re better off now dead.”
I’m the one who will make you weep.
I’m the one who steals your sleep.
Yes late late at night amongst the stillness,
You can call me Mental illness.
Latest posts by Janene Jordan (see all)
- Mental Illness - August 16, 2017