Lost

by: Hanifah A.

I didn't know who to blame, the nice psychiatrists or me.

They were being too nice and talked too much.

Shut up.

I don't want you to keep advertising this or that and tell me that my bipolar might get worse.

You asked if you could help.

But ended up running away too.

This isn't 1950.

You shouldn't ask me that, you should not help if I don't want to be helped.

I don't want to be here.

I want to go home.

Or

Just let me drown

Until the color tastes bland,

Until I can see myself turned to black and white

And finally faded away

;