Functional Fail

We are the fortunate functional few
With invisible mental illness
We suffer but no one can even tell
They say:  “she doesn’t look ill”

I can say I need help but look fine
So I am offered help last, if at all
I am ground down to the last fingertip
Dug into the very edge of the abyss

I can state that I am REALLY hurting
But in looking “fine” I could shout 
And it would have no impact on you
How is it I am punished for that?

My mask, my defence, now my burden
And now, you, society, flay me with it
Dismiss my pain and leave me to manage
Shuddering alone at a dead end alley

I thought I had value, I worked hard 
Shouldering that load, on top of mine
But eventually I lost it all or you took it
Ambivalence to my needs the final sin

You have used and abused me
I am faded away to barely a bone
Now starts the blaming, all on me
You clamour: why didn’t she say anything?



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