The pain in my throat 

Crawling up and threatening me,

This swollen feeling, when acknowledged, I choke

It's easier to lie about the pain

Go to therapy and cry again

About everything, and nothingness 

All these thoughts you've left me with 

Again and again and over again 

Solemn do I express these words aloud

Often they find themselves manifested in lead and paper bound

To lay unchanging.

 

I would if I could

Feel and be better than I am.

My highs would be actual joy rather than just manic episodes that plummet me into deep depression

I would if I could

Have come up with something that reflects this newfound feeling of relief I have

Even if it is only momentary

Because then I would have proof of this clarity

Instead, my frustration pours out in pools of tears, 

I would, if I could

Proudly proclaim that everything sorts itself out.

But it doesn't always end in the type of fairytale way you would expect

Not from the posters on therapist's walls- or in movies

I would, if I could 

So these words hold the truth I cannot speak aloud