Mental illness

When it flares up, this is what it feels like to me. Imprisonment. Behind bars, unable to get out even as I use all my might to pry the bars apart and run free. I can’t. I’m powerless. Stuck inside, till it, of its own accord, abates or one of the meds I’ve been put on kicks in.

Until then I stay imprisoned. Hopeless, dejected. I forgot to draw the balls and chains around my ankles. I’m sure you can imagine them there.

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