I take a pill-
to get through the day and push
the drowning feelings and memories away.
But they don’t disappear, they’re only
held at bay.
(the pills) are hidden in my closet with
the rest of my shame and
the doctor said it’s not something
to be embarrassed by-
“everyone feels this way at some point
in their life”
and I wonder why this man
(with a medical degree)
is telling me something I read on the internet
when I was twelve
instead of something that would actually-
I don’t want his help.
I shouldn’t need help.
I shouldn’t need this.
I shove the pills to the back of my throat
and then my closet
and tell myself
“Tomorrow, I won’t need help.”
I find myself with a blade to
my wrists. (I told myself I wouldn’t stoop
(I need help.)
- A pill to get me through the day, a pill to keep the pain at bay.