I never thought I could get in trouble for staying quiet.

It was a form of self-protection, I suppose.
A coping mechanism, you can say.
Every time something that brought pain or confusion or any complicated feelings,

I just
left
my body.
I'd be there
but
not really.

You can always get in trouble for spilling too much, I thought.
So if you don't say anything at all, don't let anyone in, don't let anything out -
You'd be safe.
I was supposed to be safe.

But when I was threatened with the psych ward for staying silent
I realized
that wasn't true.

I'm not safe
I'm not safe
I'm not safe

I'm not
safe
here
real
okay.
This is supposed to fix me,
supposed to make me okay,
why am I not okay?

I am
dying
dying
dying,
drowning,
asphyxiating,
drowning,
drowning in

Lies.
Lie.
That's the only thing I can do now.
Now it's all just lies,
I'm a lie
I'm a lie
I'm a lie -

Hah.
Don't you wish you never asked?