Some people say Im mad I just blame the L-RAD
Attacked by services syndicate post grad
Breaking the code of conduct that's sad
Criminal cause nullify's the collaborative ad
All privileged storm troopers got more than I have
Is the conscience alive while watching that sat-nav?
As a key worker your care is what we have
But straying for a kickback is a dent & bad
The mental health stigma is the foot soldiers weapon
Labelling us mentally ill with the DSM con
Exclaiming we're mental while the victim is alone
Stigma comes from the compound hear us groan
Hearing me everywhere have traits of a stalker
Attacking innocents with energy weapons lawbreaker
Violating human rights piggy back hijacker
The conspiracy hypothesis is the startler
Whats the biological molecular structure
Of a mental health disorder
A caucus of people of who can shout louder
Followed by misrepresentation from a reporter

winning doesn't taste quite right
when it's all you've eaten in days

So one day this rash shows up on your arm after you go for a walk
You assume at the time no big deal
Just be careful on walks

But then the rash never leaves
It just kind of festers and grows
Until it's gone from a patch to an outbreak

You try getting more sleep
Maybe change your diet
And you stop taking walks

But the rash still grows
And it grows
And it becomes uncontrollable

It take over your life
Prevents you from going out
From enjoying life

It keeps you as it's prisoner
And you hate that rash
So you try to banish it

It's no longer a mere accident but a full infection
So you look into it some more
But there are so many things that start out as a rash

You figure maybe you just have dry skin
But what if that's not it
What if you have a disease or worse

So now you both have a rash and are afraid
You don't know what to do
So you try everything in your power

But the rash remains
You're without options
It's time to bring in outside help

You ask yourself what it could be
And as much as you think you might know
You have a hunch and you're terrified to have it confirmed

So the question remains
While ignorance is pain it is also bliss on the soul
Knowledge heals but not without bringing about an often ugly truth

That is what having a mental disorder is like
It's not beautiful
It's not easy

It's like a rash
But it's inside your brain so not quite like a rash
But also very much like a rash in the way it mentally controls you

And it eats you away begging for an answer
And answer you'l never have
At least not without some pain

i wonder what heavens like
is my grandma there?
is both my grandpas there?
is cassy, lilly, and stella there?
are my friends there?

is it quiet at night there?
is it peaceful like the morning sun
rising over the ocean so calmy?
is there thunderstorms that put you to sleep?
is there no pain there?
do you laugh so hard your stomach aches there?

why does it sound nicer
to be there
than
it does to be here
within all of this ******* chaos
within all of this ******* pain
why am i here and not there?

i use to think
i slit my wrists
in hopes
i would forget
the emotional pain
and just focus on
the physical

i use to think
if i starved my body
for days on end
resulting in seizures
from my diabetes
the pain of hunger
would no longer
rumble within my bones

all those years
thinking i did it
as a distraction
but really

it was a way
to no longer be numb
to no longer be hollow
to remind myself that
i am allowed to f e e l

They say these stretch marks are my tiger stripes,
signs of my strength.
But I have never wanted to be a carnivore.
I don't want to prey on those smaller than me,
the ones so fragile I think they may crack.
I want to be a sunflower.
Long, and tall, and slim,
tilting toward the sunlight,
not just unafraid
but yearning to be seen.

I have not felt the sun on my skin in so long
that I have forgotten how it feels to burn,
to let the rays rest on my goosebumps
and sink into the warmth.
I think I am destined to be cold.
To shiver under my own scornful gaze in the bathroom mirror,
because even though I only ate dinner,
I still woke up fat.

I never asked to be covered in stripes,
these scars that have defined me and
defiled me.
Before I even knew what it meant to be marked
I knew to hide.
I knew to pray that the earth would swallow me whole,
because at least in the ground nobody has to see me.

The sunflower turns to face the sun,
to feel the warmth on its petals.
And one day I will peel off these layers of death on my bones
and I will face the sun
and let it burn.