I stare out the window, watching the rain
It rolls down the window like the tears on my face.
This pain, this fear, I’ve been trying for years
To make it go away, to make it disappear.
My doctor, she helps me, she listens and says:
“I can see that you’re trying to get out of this mess,
I think you need help though, I’ll write you a script,
For Prozac and Wellbutrin, they should help you tip
The scales back to normal, and feel happy again.”
But I exit the room and the pain sets back in.
I want to get better, I want to be free,
So that I can help others who are just like me.
I want to be a psychiatrist, to do good in the world
I want to help those in pain, especially young girls.
Because I know how it feels as an eighteen-year-old
To have talent and potential, but it all gets sold
To the darkness and the pain and the sheer desperation.
I want to help people to find liberation.