You drink about it.
You smoke about it.
You **** about it.
You cut about it.
You sleep about it.
You stopped sleeping about it
You stopped eating about it.
You keep eating about it.
You swallow pills about it.
You punch walls about it.
You kick cans about it.
You spit about it.
You write about it.
You cry about it.
But you won't talk about it.
You won't pray about it.
You won't seek help about it.
You won't reach out about it.
You won't tell your father about it.
You won't tell your lover about it.
You won't meditate about it.
You won't medicate about it.
You won't preach about it.
You won't advocate about it.
You're killing yourself over it,
but perhaps it's time you start saving yourself from it.
What is your "it"?
I've bolded what I find to be healthier alternatives for coping, opposed to the common and harmful ways of coping that are italicized.
This poem is very personal & I hope you learn to cope the best way you can.
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