And I was used to it
The unsteady moods and sudden attacks
I'd mold myself into someone who couldn't be hurt
Stopped trying to fix your errors by addressing them first
I'd just never expected to be needing that back
Good I kept all my baggage and never unpacked

Hasbro makes a Monopoly game
Durable because sometimes we blame
The board for our troubles.  
We never roll doubles!
So flip the whole board.  This is lame!

The stars from on high have been grabbed by hands on low
Cast from the skies the twinkle across the earth
Once seen in the heavens, now blinded by self made brilliance
Lost is the marvel of nature to the glory of machine

Hissing of thousands leach into the air
By coals raked under a grate of fear
Smote by impassioned absence
Crest the hills crown of flame
Those responsible too high to blame
Under an ash fallen sky
Gravity of its own the horizon pulls on eye

What do you say when it fills your mouth?

Brush off the house powdered bench
Watch the planes ready to quench
Hear wailing of a passing ambulance
Front of the line hands held in shackle
Given an insurmountable task to tackle
Those with the least working the most
Having to serve an unyielding host

What do you give when you're losing it all?

Responsibility has been marketed
By those at fault to avoid being targeted
Free of consequence on their consciousness
Failure to act should be answered
No longer can this be the standard
A shared effort must be taken
Our anger should never be mistaken

What do you tear when the system goes bad?

You and I in the Universe and no one around.
Like my life has completed the circle right now.
There were people, so many of them, but now no one.
And I want to change nothing at all for no one.

I don’t want to hand back that unwanted and useless run.
To someone, for something, for some reason, for or against anyone.
I didn’t know goal, I didn't feel meaning, I didn’t see end,
But rushed and teared to pieces without any bend.

I didn’t see light, didn’t hear the truth at all.
And I realized that my measly life not to all.
But I was like a demented and crazy crack.
Rushing in there, I said the whole time: “No one step back!”

I’ve paused my life or maybe I’ve stopped.
And in that hysterics I’ve almost overshot.

You and I in the Universe – let it be so.
Hold my hand. I’m blind and in the gloom in whole.
But I’m alive! Look, I’m breathing by chest.
I’m not in a hurry now. I just want to rest.

It’s fun to collect money for passing
Go but ahead hotels are massing.  
Competitors bought
The railroads.  You’re caught!
You can’t outrun landlords by racing.

Study yourself- measure the intangible thing exactly.
Collect the data, but throw it out - you exaggerated.
Describe your experience, in detail, but know that
it's just a formality, for insurance- you seem fine.
Results of our studies say you're simply not real.
It isn't possible, no way around it. No way around
the system we've created to keep mercy confined
inside the sterile bottle of preapproved problems and solutions.

This has never happened to us, so it cannot happen to you.
This is not something I've seen before- and I am God.
This isn't pain, it's nothing, just a sham, a trend, vanity.
This must be fun, writing sad little pleas for help, cancelling life,
quitting your job all for the sake of playing pretend. Playing sick.
This would all go away if you would just lose a little weight,
grow so thin we could tuck you in an envelope with the bill and
send you back home. Come back when you're dead.

Are you sure you're not just anxious? Insane? Confused?
Are you secretly drinking rat poison, but you forgot?
Are you trying to get out of having to enjoy life?
Are you sure you're not just hysterical, womb wandering angrily
through your psyche, whispering silly things it read on the internet?
Are you simply an interloper here to ruin our day
by insisting that you are not a healthy young woman
who simply needs to get a hobby? Get laid? Get lost?

Have you tried gratitude? Yoga? Mindfulness? God? Satan?
Tums? Shutting up? Ibuprofen? Having a baby?
Have you tried being an entirely different person, the right kind?
Have you considered that you're not medically but
spiritually defective, missing a piece of your soul?
Have you considered that we're simply not willing to try
because the only thing wrong with you is you
and you've become quite a burden to us all?

We're sure you think you are sick- but we're sick of you.
We're sure you're just looking for attention, sympathy,
to challenge us, to get some mysterious satisfaction.
You must love spending all your time here, paying us in blood,
ignoring our script, writing your own. We've got your number-
in just a few rushed moments, forty five minutes late, we've
disassembled you in our heads, lost the screws, determined that
you're simply of subclinical importance. Here's that bill.