It was a dreary day,
not different than normal.

The sky was gray,
the air was damp.

My heart raced as I drove over the mountain.

I told myself over and over,
I am here to get better.

I will try to get better.

The doctor came in,
I started to cry.

I can’t let this out,
I will keep it inside.

As the time past,
that soon was a lie.

She asked me, “honey, do you have hope?”

I said “well, ma'am, I truly try.
I can see a better future,
But sometimes want to die.”

“Let’s try to fight these feelings,” she said.
“Would you try an SSRI?
We can face this as a team, you and I.”

I dropped my head,
I wiped my eyes,
I said “let’s give it a chance,
it cant hurt to try.”

Here I am.
6 months gone by.
I still feel alone,
but I don’t want to die.

I’m starting to see the beauty in things.
I’m starting to feel again.

Is this a chemical warfare,
that keeps me from feeling low?

Or is this a head trick,
a sugar pill,
a modern placebo?

Whatever it is, I am happy.
For a minute,
for a second,
for a moment,
I am happy.
I have hope.