“Some people hate the thought of their mental health difficulties being labelled, but for others the acknowledgement of the problem is a huge step toward recovering from or at least learning to accept it. This short poem, ‘Therapy’, is my own interpretation of the stability it offers some people, and the platform Sheffield Flourish hopefully provides.”
Therapy
Call me Crazy, please,
give this thing a name.
Don’t accept that I’m a mystery.
Diagnose me as Insane.
Don’t tell me I’ll just get there.
Please, give me a date.
Don’t leave it open-ended.
Validate the wait.
Don’t tell me that I’m doing fine.
It means nothing til I’ve done it.
A rescue helicopter only
undermines the summit
I’m not trying to scale a mountain
I’m trying to make it crack.
Putting on that pesky stone
won’t take the real one off my back.
Don’t tell me smiles are catching
but acknowledge they’re a juggle.
Don’t tell me that I’m looking well.
Understand I’ve learned to struggle.
Don’t plug holes with positivity
and drown me in nice diction.
Make a life raft in this madness
and give me a condition.
