wiping the dust off my wrist
checking my pulse
nearing my neck
if life was fixed
and you were too
would you still feel the way
there was fatigue of hundreds of days within me
and one fine day, this man tells me-
i promise you’ll be fine in 6weeks
therapy changed me
and my family
but days when they are quiet
i hear things
i hear things when they look at me
i see things when they speak to me
i hate every calculated note i say
why does conversation with them have to be this way?
despite the constant berating and self hatred
i was comfortable in my own skin.
there was peace in the violence
and transparency in the war.
there was only exhaustion around them
and loss in appetite and i was sore
there is fear in getting better for them
and pain in losing to myself.