Poetry

Ode to the Undiagnosed

Content Warning: This poem contains depictions of mental illness, self harm and body-focused repetitive behaviour. If you are sensitive to such content, please refrain from reading this. Otherwise, please proceed with caution. 

 

 

I don’t know why you don’t know.
Maybe it’s because you do know
That even if you had known
You wouldn’t be able to afford the cure.
Except, there is no cure, is there?
You’ve tried Melatonin, Holy Basil,
Valerian Root, 5-Hydroxytryptophane.
You try to knock yourself out
Because if you don’t, you’d scratch
It already sucks that you’re not getting enough rest
And now, you have to deal with the scars,
The new imperfections,
As if you weren’t flawed enough already.

“Recovery is a continuous choice”,
Were the words you echoed
In the minute void between
Your denial and disbelief.
You dared them to look at you,
Stare at your tortured skin.
You dared them to say to your face
That you haven’t seen the war.
You dared them to listen when you retort,
When you tell them you’ve been fighting
Before you even realised you were in it.

I don’t know why you don’t know.
Maybe it’s because you do know
That even if you had known
Nobody would believe you.
They wouldn’t be able to deal with
One more person with the “sickness”.
As if you are another defective doll
To add to their collection of the damned.
But it’s not about them, it was never,
For a second, about them.

 

*Note: Ode to the Undiagnosed was first published on http://amelioratism.livejournal.com/ on 23rd September 2013

Share This:

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *