Poem #10

I feel sick.

Sicker than I felt in the beginning.

I feel weird about having to take so many pills.

I didn't notice that before.

I feel different than everybody else.

They look normal.

Things look easier for them.

I don't know if it's true, but they sure make it look that way.

They don't seem so bothered around strangers.

They don't seem so worried about their next day, next minute.

I'm always worried.

I can't think about my future, because now it's made of nothing.

It's hard to think about the past, that brings a lot of pain.

And the present, it seems empty.

Many times I don't know what to put in it.

I don't know what to do to fill my days.

I don't know what to do to make my mind stop thinking so much.

I don't know what to do to make my heart stop feeling so much.

Everybody says I'm getting better.

Well, when will I be really ok, cured?

Will this ever happen?

I don't feel all that better.

I'm just out of danger.

I feel like there's a long way ahead of me, and I'm very tired of walking.

I don't mean to sound like I'm just complaining.

I just want to get all these feelings out.

But these feelings seem to like me, they don't want to go away.

What can I do to make them go away?

Just for a while, so I can rest.

Just for a few days, so I can be a little happy.

I wish I could learn to be happy even when they're there.

Then things would get a lot easier.