Another day, another set of pills.
This is the life for the mentally ill.
Chastised for not being normal,
Like it’s our own fault we’re abnormal.
A chemical imbalance is what they say.
Suck it up, ignore, and it will all go away.
We want the same. Perhaps not at first.
But the mania and depression make our minds want to burst.
We’re sick, but not like the common cold.
This will be with us even as we grow old.
But we fight. We persist.
This sickness we resist.
Fighters we are. And fight we must.
Because we’re the few and proud and our cause is just.
Being ill isn’t the end of the world.
Try telling that to loose friends who think you’re unfurled.
There’s no light at the end of our tunnel
As we attempt to not spread this tornado funnel.
There’s hope in others as we navigate this sea.
But in the end, we’re still part of humanity.
We fight because life is worth living.
Even for the assholes who are unforgiving.
We live our life the best we can.
And scrape what’s left of friendships that are banned.
He’s not always this way, they hope.
Let’s let this healing process begin.
And we’ll pick up the pieces yet again.