Subtitles

I speak in a language

Only doctors understand

My letters melting

Into each other

In one confused scribble

On a prescription pad

 

My heart bleeds

Where my mouth speaks

And my tears wash

The blood away

 

I have not drowned,

I remind myself

 

But I wake up

To the sound of waves

Crashing in my flooded lungs

And my lips tear apart

For air

Maybe a scream

 

 

Nothing changes

 

 

Before I speak

I gargle my words

Counting to thirty

Waiting

For my body to swallow them

Before they’re heard

 

You all cut off your ears

Hold them out to me

Blood dripping

From your absent hands

 

Ready to listen

Only when I have lost my voice

Lost it to all the years spent

Waiting

  

Weighing me

Against your pain

Measuring me

By how many nights I have not slept

Teaching me

Sadness is weakness

And tears are defeat

 

Holding your ignorance

Holding your fear

But not holding me

 

Depression manuals

Anxiety guides

Dictionaries in one hand

Pills in another

 

Translating emotion into science

 

You will get strong,

They say

 

 

I already am.

 

Copyright notice:

© Zeinab Hassan Fawaz and Broken Dolls, 2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

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