It turns out that April is National Poetry Month. Who knew? I’ve been sitting on this gem for awhile now, undecided about if or when I should share it. With everything going on in the world, now seems like a pretty logical time. I wrote this when I was in a particularly dark place. Not much has changed, and it never really seems to. Some may see this as a cry for help, which I’m not entirely convinced that it is. Mostly, this is just to serve as an outlet. A lot of it reflects my own personal thought processes and ideas, sure. But some of it is for artistic value. I won’t break it down any more than that right now, but I hope you enjoy this poem for what it is: a glimpse into my broken psyche, and what I think is a pretty decent, fairly powerful poem about mental health and the struggles that people face with it.
A current fad.
So many causes:
Work, kids, bills, health, genetics, weather.
So few solutions:
Counseling, medication, self care.
But who has time? Who has money?
Gym memberships. More money. More time.
Therapy, prescriptions. More money. More time.
What’s the reason?
What’s the purpose?
Sleep, the only reprieve.
Temporary, but consistent.
Sleep, please come quickly.
Taught to bottle it up and keep it inside;
Where it festers, eats you up, and rots you from the core.
Your mind works against you.
Share your feelings they say, let it out.
But why? What changes?
Pity? Become a punchline?
What’s the point?
Stress is all consuming.
Sleep will come eventually.