Doors

By an anonymous author.

You say
your door
is never closed.
so in I walk,
and in I talk,
and in you place
me in the light
oh how it blinds
me in my plight
and so, I turn
and try again
I try
And try
And try again
But every door
Reminds me that
I am a pain.
I am a bane
On all your lives
On all your games
But still I walk
And nothing I gain
The next one says
they feel the same
try and place us both in blame
victims of the world we see
self-inflicted jealousy
hurt
abused
I turn to yours
You give me books
You give me laws
I feel as though
I am not there
I feel as though
You do not care
Why won’t you look
Up from your mask
Of all the books
Of all the tasks
And ask me what its really like
To have been told
How I must live my life
You think you know
Inside my mind
From all your books
From all your looks
You think you know
but I am here
to tell you all
you need to hear
I am the book
I am the writing
So take me to
Some better lighting
Take me to your writing desk
and there you might well see
the terror of the words I write
To which I give the key
I want your terror
I want your scare
I want you to say
How on earth can you bear?
I am so scared
Why can’t you see?
It is one thing
that these books can’t be
You aren’t my doctor
I have plenty of them
You aren’t my architect
Just be my friend!
So stand by me
see the fear in my eyes
when my friends do not care
and my family tell me lies
Stand with me and see
How diagnosis is not final
To me
I could not feel further
But to you
This is banal
Diagnosed.
Treat
Build her a library
I don’t want to be ill
I don’t want to be scared
yet you
oh you
how you cannot see
why it is that I
do not want therapy
I don’t want to be ill
How about that for an answer
I don’t want to take pills
I do not want to be a dancer
For your charade
Your anecdotal tale
Your promenade
A trick to unveil
I do not want to avoid
The things that cause pain
Because I want to be
Like others who live in vain
I do not want to see a therapist
I do not want CBT
I do not want to be the one
with a fucked-up mind
like those people on TV
So,
take me out of your library
Take me out from the books
And be with me in the night
and be with me for the looks
Be the person who will listen
be the person to console
I want to feel protected
And right now,
I am cold
Burn all the books
That speak of generalisation
Because I am not the plot
let me be their diction
You place me in their middle
And this is where you lack
The ability to see
That to me
You’ve turned your back
In all of your eyes
In all of your doors
You think you see it
You think I am yours
Your pain
Your suffering
Your day to day stress
But I am nothing the same
Not even undressed
I wish I never walked
Through any of these doors
But in them thought
They would send me to the source
Oh, how I was wrong
So cripplingly, wrong
And now I feel alone
Lonelier than a song
Left naked in a room
A distance between
thick like jelly,
white like a spleen,
I am back in my childhood
reliving the pain
accepting I am ill
And that from this I came
I do not want to relive
The faces that laugh
The ones which used,
to haunt me by halves
Have you considered how I feel?
Have you thought about me at all?
Being told I am broken
And to this you enthral
So, you built me this library
And you built me a home
And in it stands me
And I am all alone

Categories: Poetry

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s