I'm not sick Mommy.
Perhaps all the vomiting is my mind's plea,
To escape this broken shell, body.
The harder I heave, the greater chance of my mind's liberty.
My mind is too strong to be contained by a human,
Too full of ideas, dreams, to be fenced in.
It has so many things it wants to accomplish,
Things this disabled body can only wish, of doing.
The shaking, screaming, an atempt to shatter the shame,
Make me feel clean.
The convulsing, my mind protesting,
The rage, simply my mind's frustration, rattling it's cage.
Demanding "LET ME OUT, WRETCH ME OUT!!!!"
The moods, up and down,
Meds readjusting, appointments,
My mind dreaming, then drenched in disappointment.
The human skin is hard to live in,
Perhaps that's why I once tore it open.
I'm not sick Mommy,
The signs and symptoms you see,
What some may call crazy,
Is simply my mind, begging, pleading,
To be set free.