Broken

I wake and it's
not over.
It has never been over.
Eating away at any hope I have left.

I laugh with you, share the joke -
Too afraid to let you know how
Differently I'm feeling.
I go out with you, on the piss -
Too afraid to tell you how
Scared I am.
How I know I'll be hit the day after.

I walk to the psychiatrists, the psychologists, the doctors
Alone.
I mull through their questions -
Am I eating? Am I sleeping? Am I exercising?

Well, yes, I'm working, I'm smilling, I'm breathing, I'm laughing, I'm going, I'm dancing, and I'm singing. I'm all of these things and I'm still here.

The frustration and despair set in and
I am
hopeless.
Hopeless to change.
Hopeless of that miracle.
Hopeless for relief.

Too afraid to call - of what you'll think.
I'm so ungrateful. It's my fault. I have so much going for me. I'm whining.
You think I don't think these too?
I do.
Everyday.
A torturous ball of guilt in which I'm imprisoned.
Drawing tighter and I'm
Rolling off the edge
I can't stop.

I've tried asking. I've done the light, the oils, the pills, the exercise, the therapy.
I've tried so hard.

Fix me. Fix me.
I'm broken.