Under the bitter sunshine,
You had to beg me to be still.
Still I could not contain my thoughts
Of how all these things had come and gone.
So, people the boards with those who play their parts,
Those who no longer want to feel strong.
We wither under your watchful gaze,
We crumble under your wrath and scorn.
We didn’t choose to have our hearts
So empty, yet so full of dirt.
I didn’t want to drink my weight
In this poison of my father’s choice.
Now as we lay in broken beds,
Not alone, but still apart,
I will dream upon that summer’s day
And lament the loss of your civility.
For anyone who's ever had to live with mental illness.